Forget Me Not
by Shaddic
Summary: The Joker's got a problem: Harley doesn't remember who he is! What's a clown to do? Joker/Harley Nolanverse
1. Chapter 1

"Mistah J, are ya ever gonna tell me what we're doin'?"

"Now Harls, we've been over this. If I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore."

"Couldn't ya at least tell me where we're goin'? Come on, give me a hint."

"Harley, do you know what happens to impatient little hench-wenches? They get to sleep outside."

"Okay, Puddin, I'll be patient."

The Joker and Harley Quinn we're headed out on a heist, alone. He had insisted that it be kept a secret, and so of course Harley could barely contain her excitement. She was hoping that he had something romantic in mind, although she highly doubted it. Still, a girl could hope, right? And besides, as long as she was with her Puddin, it really didn't matter what they were doing.

"We're here!" He announced suddenly.

Harley looked around. They were parked outside an old abandoned building that she instantly recognized as Scarecrow's current hideout.

"What are we doin' here, Puddin?" she asked, confused.

"If my sources are correct, and they usually are, Crane is out for the night. Apparently he's out testing some new version of his fear toxin on the fair citizens of Gotham. So, to congratulate him on a job well done, we're going to leave him a little surprise," he said with a wide and malicious grin. He opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a case. He then strutted towards the building, Harley close behind.

Once inside, it didn't take them long to find his lab. It consisted of two levels; the top level was filled with different machines and beakers and plenty of other things that Harley didn't know the names of. There was a chalkboard covered in formulas that gave her a headache just looking at. In the lower level there were shelves stocked with vials filled with different colored liquids, which she assumed were fear toxin.

"So what are we gonna to do? Destroy everything?" she asked curiously.

"Harley, what am I always telling you? You've got to think outside the box. Sure, it would be a blast to blow everything up," he said with a wink. "But that's been done. No, what we're going to do will really put a smile on the people's faces."

"Come on Mistah J, stop bein' so cryptic," Harley said with a giggle. "What are we doin'?"

"We are going to get rid of Crane's toxins and replace them with something even better. My Joker venom."

"Your joker venom?"

"Think of it, Harley-kins. Crane will take the joker venom and spray it in his victims faces an expect them to start screaming about their worst fears, but instead, he'll be putting a huge smile on their faces!" he said as he began to laugh madly.

Harley laughed too. Watching his victims laugh insanely as they slowly died instead of screaming about horrible visions would probably make Scarecrow have some kind of nervous break-down.

Once he regained control of himself, Joker said, "Okay Harls, time's wasting. Let's get started."

And so they did. Harley would dump out the toxins and Joker would replace them with his venom. A few of the fear toxins Joker either drank or decided to save for later. Instead of evoking any fear out of him, it would just make him even giddier than usual. When they had gone through about half the toxins, Joker ceased his laughter and stiffened.

"What is it, Puddin? It couldn't be Bats, right?" she asked, her tone filled with worry and annoyance.

"Nope, not dear old Batsy. Just Crane arriving home sooner than planned. I'm going to have to kill those reliable sources I mentioned earlier. Either his new toxin was a success or a miserable failure. How much you wanna bet it was the latter?"

Before she could respond, she heard footsteps entering the lab. Joker put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow him. They tried to sneak out the back exit without being noticed. Under normal circumstances, Joker would be going out of his way to make a spectacle of himself, but his plan would not work if Crane knew he had been tampering with his toxins.

"Joker! Harley! What are you doing here!"

Joker swore under his breath and put on his most taunting smile and stood up to meet Scarecrow, who was flanked by three big and mean looking henchmen.

"Well hello Crane! Didn't see you there! You know, you really should always knock before entering, we could've been naked in here!" he laughed.

"This is my lab, not yours, and if I ever catch you two naked in here I will kill you both. Now what are you doing here? Pilfering my potions?" he growled.

"You caught me," said Joker as he reached into his pockets and pulled out the toxins he had stolen and let them drop to the floor. The vials shattered and strange liquids splattered all over the floor and the Joker's pants. Although he didn't seem to mind, Crane was livid.

"How dare you!" he shouted.

"Oh come on Crane, lighten up," said Joker with a wide grin. "You should just be glad you got here before I could do any real damage. Since you decided to crash the party and ruin our fun, we'll take our party elsewhere. Come along Harley."

"I don't think so. You were probably going to blow up all of my toxins or something equally destructive. I'm tired of you two thinking you're above everyone else and killing anyone who doesn't agree. You may not have done any real damage, but I'm going to make sure you never get the chance."

At the last word, he signaled to his men, who pulled out their guns and began to shoot. Joker was faster and pulled out his gun and fired back at them, killing one instantly. As he shot down the next, Crane must have realized his mistake and ran up the stairs to escape.

"Don't be such a party pooper, Crane!" he called out between fits of hysterical giggles.

"I'll get him Mistah J!" yelled Harley over the gunfire. She chased Crane up the stairs and tackled him.

The Joker finished off the last henchman and raced up the stairs. Harley had Crane in a headlock, but he quickly through her off of him. The force of it sent her backwards, and before Joker could do anything about it, she tumbled down the stairs.

For a few seconds, Joker expected Harley to get up and help him take down Crane. But she wasn't moving. He saw blood trickling down the side of her face. Enraged, the Joker shot Crane in the leg and went down the stairs to check on Harley.

Despite the blood, she was still breathing and appeared to be okay. He scooped her up in his arms and gently carried her to the door. He opened the door and turned to Crane, who was howling in agony in a pool of his own blood.

"Let's do this again sometime," he said as he exited the room.

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think of the story so far. If you have any tips on ways I could improve my writing, please let me know **


	2. Chapter 2

The trip home was an unusually quiet one. Without Harley's incessant chattering, the Joker almost forgot that she was even in the car. It was a nice change, one that he knew wouldn't last very long.

Once they had reached their hideout, the Joker lifted Harley out of the car and carried her up the stairs and into their shabby apartment. He took her to their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He then went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then returned to her and proceeded to remove her jester cowl. Gently, he washed the blood and makeup from her face. He couldn't be sure how badly she had hit her head, but he felt quite certain that she didn't have a concussion. He briefly considered dropping her off at the hospital to make sure she didn't have any brain damage or anything, but dismissed the idea altogether. Hospitals were for weenies, and he was just as good, if not better, at treating injuries as any doctor. After all, with the hectic lifestyle he lived, he had plenty of experience in that area.

"I guess having a thick skull does have its advantages, eh Harls?" he said with a laugh.

Once her face was clean, he slipped off her harlequin costume and put on her pajamas. He then left her on the bed to sleep off her injury and went into his study to plan his next heist. Bud and Lou, their pet hyenas, trotted in and laid down next to him, hoping for some attention. He absently patted their heads and then set about his work. For a while he could come up with absolutely nothing and instead knocked everything off his desk in frustration. While he tried to break through his writer's block, or whatever it would be called in his case, he took a box of crayons out of a drawer and scribbled all over the walls, drawing insanely happy faces covered in blood. After what felt like an insufferable eternity to the Joker, though in reality was only a few minutes, he was brainstorming again.

The Joker continued to work until the sun began to rise. He set down his pencil and left his study to check on Harley. He opened the door and found her still asleep. He sat down on the bed and began to gently stroke her hair. As he did so, he quietly spoke her name. When this did not elicit a response, he repeated her name, louder this time.

"Harley." Still no answer. "HARLEY!" he finally shouted, having grown impatient.

Harley's eyes shot open suddenly and she looked for the source of the voice that had awoken her."What is it?" she asked, alarmed. Her eyes landed on the Joker and she cried out, "Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?"

For a split-second this caught the Joker off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Wait a minute. This isn't my apartment. Did you bring me here?" she asked accusingly.

"Well if I hadn't, you'd still be in Scarecrow's hideout, and who knows what he would do to you if he ever got his hands on you. Aren't we being ungrateful today."

"Scarecrow? Why would I be in Scarecrow's hideout?" She jumped out of the bed and backed away from him, fear in her eyes. "Stay away from me."

"Harley, is this some kind of game?" he asked, trying to make sense of her actions.

"I don't know who you are or why you brought me here, but you need to let me leave right now, or I'll call the cops," she threatened.

"Go ahead, I don't care. Besides, if they come for me, they'll take you, too," he said matter-of-factly.

"What are you talking about? What's going on? Tell me right now!" she said, her voice rising in fear and anger.

The Joker walked over to her and raised a hand to slap some sense into her, but at that moment, Bud and Lou ran in and pounced on Harley, desperate for their Mama's attention. Harley screamed in terror and tried to shove the animals off of her as they lovingly licked her face. It was then that Joker realized that something was very wrong with Harley. Sure, she might pretend to not remember him or their apartment (though he couldn't imagine why) but there was no way she would deny her babies love like this. Not only that, but she was also speaking differently. She sounded like a doctor again, all traces of the New York twang in her voice gone. It was then that he remembered her head injury. Perhaps she was worse than he thought. He needed to find out how much damage had been done.

The Joker called off the hyenas and as they trotted over to him he said, "They're harmless, you know. To you and me, anyway." He paused for a moment then said, "Harley, what is the last thing you remember?"

His question seemed to surprise and confuse her, but she answered, "I was in Arkham Asylum. I was walking into my office, then, nothing."

So basically, she remembered nothing of her life after she met him. That was strange, and oddly specific. He had never heard of such a thing before. Leave it to Harley to develop a form of amnesia that even he didn't understand.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"H-Harleen Quinzel," she said nervously.

"No, it's Harley Quinn," he told her in a tone one might use when trying to teach something seemingly simple to a slow child.

"No, my name is Harleen. What's your name?" she asked tentatively.

So she didn't even remember her alias. Apparently a forgetful Harley was a sane Harley. This could be a problem. On the one hand, her amnesia was probably only temporary and she would be just fine in no time. On the other hand, she might never recover. As long as she had amnesia, she wasn't his henchgirl. She wasn't completely and obsessively devoted to him. In other words, his toy was broken, and when your toy is broken, you only have two options: try to fix it or get rid of it. Trying to fix her would be time-consuming and annoying and could likely fail. On the other hand, if he killed her now without even trying to fix her, he would either have to find a new henchwench or do without one entirely. After weighing both options, he chose the former. He loved a challenge, and after all, if he could break her and build her up in his image a second time it would show just how much control he had over people. This could be fun.

"You can call me Mister J," he said, his friendliest smile spreading across his face.

"What's going on? Did you bring me here?" she asked, repeating her question from earlier. "You mentioned Scarecrow. Does he have any part in this?"

"I brought you here to keep you safe from the Scarecrow," he said. He made sure to make his tone sound as worried as possible. "He used to work at Arkham you know, and he was angry that you were replacing him. He was going to kill you, but I stopped him and brought you here to keep you safe."

This seemed to calm her down slightly. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Until it's safe for you to leave, Harleen," he told her, concern in his voice.

She still didn't seem entirely convinced, not that the Joker had expected her to be, but she seemed satisfied for the moment. Apparently she preferred being in the apartment of a total stranger to being subjected to Scarecrow's fear toxin. Of course, he knew that he could just keep her here against her will, but for the moment it would be easier to trick her into a sense of safety and security. For his plan to work, he needed her to trust him as much as possible. It was weird, not having her clinging to him as though her whole world depended on him. It was nice and irritating at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

For the rest of the day, the Joker worked in his study while Harleen sat on the couch and watched TV. Bud and Lou were resting their heads on her lap, and though she still worried they might attack her, they seemed docile enough at the moment.

She couldn't remember a time when she had been more frightened for her life than she was now. Here she was in some stranger's house with a crazed ex-doctor with a fetish for fear and scarecrows after her. How had she gotten herself into all this? When she had been given the opportunity to work as an intern at Arkham, she had expected it to be exciting. If she had known this would happen, well, she would have taken the job anyway, but she would have been far more cautious.

Every few minutes or so she would peek at Mister J's study. Whoever this guy was, he certainly was very strange. Why did he wear clown makeup? And why had he gone out of his way to help her? She didn't even know him. She knew trusting strangers was stupid, especially in Gotham, but what choice did she have? Apparently, it was him or Scarecrow. He seemed like a decent person, or at least more so than Jonathan Crane.

She had been watching the news all day, hoping to hear that Scarecrow had been apprehended. So far, nothing.

At around dinnertime, Mister J exited his study. "Do you need anything? Some food, perhaps?" he asked politely.

She wanted to decline his offer, but she hadn't eaten anything all day. "I guess I am a little hungry."

"I hope you like Chinese food. I had a _friend_ get some for us."

As if on cue, a man walked in with a large plastic bag and set it on the table. He then exited the room without a word.

Harleen loved Chinese food, and the smell of it practically had her mouth watering.

"Shall we?" said Mister J as he pulled out a chair for her.

Harleen sat down and he moved to sit across from her. They both took out heaping plates of food and began to eat.

"So Harleen, I hope your stay here has been comfortable. I know this can't be very easy for you, so if you need anything, please let me know," he offered kindly.

"Actually, there is one thing. My head has been killing me all day, I must have bumped it or something. You wouldn't happen to have any pain medicine, would you?" She hadn't planned to ask him for drugs, but her head really hurt.

Mister J smiled and left the table. When he returned, he brought with him a couple of pills. Harleen thanked him and swallowed the medicine.

"So Mister J, what do you do for a living?" she asked as she took a bite of food.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, as though he didn't remember what his job was. "I'm an entertainer," he said finally. "I bring smiles to the faces of the good people of Gotham city. You're probably wondering why I'm dressed as a clown. It's all part of the job," he chuckled.

"Sounds like a fun job. More fun than mine has been so far, anyway," she replied sadly.

"You're a psychiatrist, right?" he asked.

"Yes. If nothing else, it promises to be a very interesting job." It certainly had been interesting so far, but not in a way she liked.

"If I may ask, why did you choose to become a psychiatrist?" The way he spoke and the look on his face made her feel like she could tell him anything and he wouldn't judge her or grow bored with her, but she knew that couldn't be the case. He was probably just trying to be polite and make conversation.

She thought about her answer for a moment, then said, "I suppose it's because I find extreme minds and personalities to be rather fascinating."

"Do you enjoy your job?" he asked as he shoved a bite of food into his mouth.

"Well, I never got the chance to actually do the job. Scarecrow decided to intervene, remember?" she said sullenly.

"But do you think you would have enjoyed it? Really enjoyed it? I mean come on, you're talking about spending the rest of your life trying to figure out why crazy people aren't sane and trying to make them sane. Does that sound like the kind of life you want to live?"

A bit offended, Harleen responded, "I think it is the kind of life I want to live. I might not always enjoy it, but if I choose a career based on how much fun I'll have, I'll end up on the side of the road digging through garbage cans. You do what you have to."

"Not necessarily. I love my job, and I'd say I'm pretty well off." He paused, then said, "Do you ever think your talents could be better used elsewhere?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, taken aback.

"It just seems to me that you would be better suited for something else. Sure, you'll probably be a wonderful shrink, but I think you should reevaluate your options."

Judging by the direction he had steered the conversation in, she gathered he wasn't very fond of psychiatrists. "And just what do you think I should do with my life?" she asked, a bit coldly. Who did this guy think he was, telling her how to live her life?

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Harleen saw a miracle happen on the TV.

"They caught Scarecrow! Look Mister J, they're taking him back to Arkham. I can go home!" she said, not bothering to mask the obvious relief in her voice.

The Joker silently cursed Crane and anyone who had had a part in his capture. "Are you sure you want to leave so soon? Maybe you shouldn't go back just yet, you could still be in danger." He had to force the next words out. "The Scarecrow is not to be taken lightly. In my opinion, he's the most dangerous rogue in Gotham." He would definitely have to wash his mouth out with soap later.

"Thanks, but I think it's safe for me to go home now. Or safer, anyway. Thank you for looking out for me, I really do appreciate it, but I need to go home now," she insisted nervously.

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes which frightened her. In that instant, she knew that she wouldn't be leaving that easily. She knew that he had no intention of ever letting her go. So she was shocked when she heard him say, "Well, don't let me stop you! I'm afraid that we're quite far from your apartment though, so allow me to drive you. I insist!" he said with a wide grin.

Her feelings of relief were overshadowed by her fear of what he might do to her should she accept his offer, or if she didn't accept it. Gotham was a dangerous place, especially at night. Even so, she didn't quite feel comfortable with the idea of a peculiar clown that she had just met driving her home. But the way he looked at her, his expression seemed to demand that she accept. So she did.

About an hour later, she was in the passenger seat of Mister J's car outside her apartment. Neither one of them had spoken a word the entire time. Home had never sounded so good to Harleen before, and she would never take it for granted again.

"Thank you for bringing me home, and for everything else," she said as he turned off the car.

"My pleasure. I do hope we meet again someday, Miss Quinzel," he said as he kissed her hand.

Harleen stepped out of the car and walked up to her apartment. As she entered the building, she heard him drive away. She let out a sigh of relief and went over to the elevator. Just as she was about to press the button, she suddenly realized two things: she was in her pajamas, and she didn't have the key to her room. Utterly mortified, she tentatively approached the elderly doorman at the front desk.

"Excuse me, I lost the key to my room, do you have a spare I could borrow? I'm in room 347,"she asked as she tried to hide her embarrassment, with little success.

The man looked up and his eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Harleen, is that you?"

"Of course it's me," she replied, a bit confused. "Who else?"

The man continued to stare at her. "I'm afraid I can't give you a key to 347. I'm renting it to someone else now."

"But I was only gone for a day or two. Why would you give my room away?" she asked, perplexed.

Instead of answering her question, the man handed her another key. "Here, you can have room 239," he said uneasily.

As confused as she was, Harleen took the key and headed for the elevator. That was odd. How long did he think she had been gone? The guy was ancient, but surely his mind wasn't so far gone that he would forget her after only one or two days.

It had been only one or two days, right?


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Harleen's headache had improved a little, but it was still very uncomfortable. What had happened to cause such pain in her head? She hoped she didn't have a tumor or some kind of illness.

She was forced to go ask one of her neighbors for some clothes. Just the thought of it made her want to crawl into a hole and die, but she knew she had no choice. Fortunately, the first door she knocked on belonged to a kind elderly lady who was happy to share some of her clothes with her, and even a pair of shoes. She didn't seem to find Harleen's story of having all her clothes stolen strange at all. Of course, she was in Gotham city after all. Stuff like this probably happened to people all the time.

She thanked the woman and went back to her room to change. The clothes were much too big and the shoes squeezed her feet, but at least she didn't have to go out in her pajamas. She gazed down at the pajamas and noticed that something had fallen out of one of the pockets. She looked closer and was stunned to see that it was a wad of hundred dollar bills. How had all that money gotten in her pocket? She realized it must have been Mister J. He must have slipped the money into her pocket before he dropped her off. She couldn't believe it, he really did care about her. Perhaps there was some good in Gotham, after all.

She left the building and immediately bought some new clothes. Since she only had one set of contacts (when had she started wearing contacts?) she bought some new glasses, too.

After she was done with her shopping, she decided to go to Arkham Asylum. If anyone could help her figure out what was going on, Joan Leland could. Although she and Joan weren't close, Joan really seemed to care about people. Joan would listen to her, even if what she had to say was incredible.

She hailed a taxi and began the trip to Arkham. Once there, she entered the creepy building and searched for Joan's office. Almost immediately, people started staring at her and whispering. She tried to ignore them, but it was weird. Why had the world turned upside down all of a sudden, and why was she the only one in the dark? It was like the universe was pulling a cruel prank on her.

She found Joan's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," she heard Joan call.

Harleen opened the door and walked in. Joan looked up and did a double take. "Harley?"

"Hi, Joan. Can we talk?" she asked tentatively.

"Please, sit down," said Joan as she gestured to the chair before her desk, her tone one of amazement.

Harleen sat down while Joan gaped at her. Her expression seemed to be a mix of disbelief and wariness. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I need your help. Something weird is going on. Nothing is making any sense." She knew how crazy what she was saying sounded, but she needed to talk to someone about this, and Joan was the only person she knew who would be willing to listen.

"What do you mean?" asked Joan, looking completely bewildered.

Harleen then proceeded to tell her of the events that had transpired since she had woken up in Mister J's apartment the day before.

"Are you telling me you don't know who Mister J is?" Joan asked after she had finished, sounding completely baffled.

"Well I only met him yesterday," replied Harleen, as though it should have been obvious.

"Harley, Mister J is the Joker. Please tell me you know who the Joker is," Joan practically pleaded.

"I've never heard of anyone called the Joker before," said Harleen, wondering who on the earth this Joker guy was, and why Joan kept calling her Harley.

"Harley, do you think I'm an idiot?" Joan asked suddenly.

"Of course not! You're the smartest person I know," said Harleen truthfully.

"Then why are you trying to make me believe such a ridiculous story?" she asked angrily.

"It's true! Why would I make something like this up?" exclaimed Harleen, desperate for Joan to believe her.

Instead of answering, Joan pushed a button on her desk and two guards almost immediately rushed in and grabbed Harleen.

"What are you doing?" Harleen shouted at her.

"Lock her up," was all she said.

"Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends!" Harleen wailed.

"We were, until you became the Joker's pet," said Joan bitterly.

"Who is the Joker? What does he have to do with me?" cried Harleen.

"Harley, the Joker is the most dangerous and psychotic criminal I have ever encountered, and you've been his sidekick for _years_," said Joan, her tone full of disgust.

"What are you talking about, that can't be true! He helped me! And I would never work for a criminal! How could you even think something like that of me? You know I would never hurt anyone!" yelled Harleen desperately.

"Put her in a straightjacket. I want someone watching her at all times, is that clear?" she ordered the guards.

"You can't do this to me!" Harleen screamed as she was dragged away. "I came to you for help, and you're treating me like a lunatic! I'm not crazy and I never worked for the Joker! Why won't you believe me?"

xxxx

Harleen sat at the edge of her cot on the verge of tears. What was going on? Was there something wrong with her? She knew she would never do any of the things Joan was accusing her of, but why else would they be doing this to her? Just a couple of days ago, when she had first walked into Arkham, she had gotten off to a good start, or so she thought. She had been on good terms with the other doctors, so why would they betray her like this? She had to fight to keep the tears from escaping; she would not let this get to her. She would survive this, somehow.

She looked up when she heard someone enter her cell. She looked up and saw that it was a nurse. Probably hear to dope her up. She nearly screamed, however, when the nurse removed her mask and her wig. She couldn't believe it. Mister J.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked as he sat down on the bed next to her. "Why are you dressed as a nurse?"

"I came to see you of course, and this isn't the first time I've dressed up as a nurse to infiltrate a hospital, trust me," he said with a low chuckle.

"You came to see me?" she asked incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, as though they were best friends.

Instead of answering his question, she decided to ask one of her own.

"They told me you're a criminal. Is that true?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Yes," he replied nonchalantly.

"And is it true that I was your sidekick?" she asked, still unsure if she wanted to know the truth.

"Yes," he replied in the same tone.

"Is the Scarecrow really after me?"

"Afraid not."

"Why did you lie to me?" she asked him, feeling betrayed yet again. How many times could one person be betrayed in one day?

"So many questions. I'll tell you why I lied. It was to help you," he told her, sounding sincere.

"Help me? What do you mean?" she asked, disbelieving.

"We were pulling a prank on ole' Scarecrow when you fell down a flight of stairs and hit your head. The trauma caused you to suffer amnesia. It appears you somehow managed to not only forget me, but anything and everything in your life that was directly linked to me, like your alias Harley Quinn. I lied to you so that you would trust me and let me help you."

"Amnesia… I can't believe it," she said as she shook her head. It made sense, but it made her feel dizzy. "But wait a minute, when you took me to my old apartment, you knew I would end up in Arkham, didn't you? Why would you let that happen?"

"Would you have preferred for me to have kept you tied to a chair and held against your will? You didn't leave me with very many options, you know. I didn't want to dump your past with me all on you at once, you wouldn't have believed me and it would only have made things worse."

He did have a point, she had to admit. "What was your crime?" she asked tentatively.

He stared outside her cell for a while and she was sure that he would refuse to tell her what he had done, but he surprised her yet again when he said, "My only crime is that I am different from the rest of the world, and I live my life differently as a result. I don't conform to social norms, and I do things that others would call deplorable. They call me insane, when in truth they are just unwilling to accept my view on life. They cling to things like sanity and order and decency like a life-preserver because they are unwilling to accept that those things aren't real, that they're just words created to control people. You were the only person like me and, ironically enough, right now they think you're getting crazier when according to their standards, you're saner now than you've been in a very long time. You understood my views, you joined me and loved me, and they hate you for it. They will try to keep us here for the rest of our lives simply because we don't fit their mold, because we accepted the truth that they are too scared to face."

"I wish I could remember these things. Do you think I'll ever get my memories back?" she asked, afraid to even hope for such a thing.

"Hard to say, but I think you will. It was just a bump on the noggin, and we've both suffered far worse injuries. I think you'll be right as rain in no time," he said as he patted her head, sending waves of pain through her, but she didn't care. She was just glad to have real hope.

He left her cell without a word, and Harleen found herself relieved by his words. He certainly was a strange man, but also very sweet and kind. He was right, soon enough she would remember. She would remember everything.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not crazy. I know you think I am, but I'm not."

"I'm sorry Harley, but I can't ignore the facts."

Harleen was sitting in a little room with Joan, or Dr. Leland as she insisted on being called. The room was dimly lit and had only a table, a couple of chairs, a camera, a trash bin and for some reason, a TV set and a DVD player. Today was the first of what was guaranteed to be many annoying therapy sessions.

"My name is Harleen, not Harley," she said through gritted teeth as she looked into the camera that was recording the session.

"Okay Harleen, tell me. If you're not crazy, then what is going on with you? What's happening to you now, it didn't just happen by itself. Something caused this, and I want to hear your opinion before I give mine."

"I had an accident and hit my head pretty hard, and I'm having trouble remembering some things," said Harleen as she rubbed the sore spot on her head.

"Harleen, I'm usually not this blunt with patients, but you're one of the exceptions. When you came to see and me and told me what happened, I didn't believe you. I thought the Joker had sent you to infiltrate Arkham for one of his insane schemes. However, you do seem sincere, and you were never much of an actress, so I have dismissed that theory for the most part and have come up with another. I think you're having a psychotic break." Harleen opened her mouth to protest, but Joan held up a hand to silence her and continued. "It's not very surprising. You live a very hectic and stressful lifestyle with the Joker. I believe your mind has erased your memories of the Joker to protect you from further harm. You didn't like the way your life was going, you didn't like what you were becoming, so you forgot the Joker and reset your mind to the way it was before you ever met him. Like a defense mechanism, perhaps this is the only way you believed you could be free of him."

"Surely no one is that insane," said Harleen as she gaped at her in disbelief. She wasn't sure what was worse; what she had said or the way she had said it, like she was a child who had done something wrong and didn't understand why she was being punished. "Look, I know that you believe your explanation makes more sense than mine, and in a way it does, but I know what happened to me. It's not insanity, it's just a head wound. Pretty soon I'll recover and my memories will come back. I'll stay in my cell until that happens, but once I get better I'm out of there."

"Even if you are correct and your amnesia was caused by a head injury, it in no way excuses your actions before your supposed accident," said Joan reprovingly.

"Whatever it was, it couldn't have been as bad as your making it sound," mumbled Harleen.

"Oh really? Then why don't you watch some videos I brought for you. I think you'll find them to be quite enlightening," said Joan as she left the room. She came back half a minute later carrying a box of DVDs. She put one in the DVD player and pushed play.

The video began with a man and a woman bound and gagged, their faces filled with sheer terror. Mister J took out the gags and they immediately began to plead helplessly for their lives.

"Please, we'll do anything! Just let us go!" they begged.

"Are you getting this Harley?" Mister J asked the camera.

"Sure thing, Mistah J."

Harleen gasped. That voice, although it was higher and had a New York accent, it had undeniably been hers.

"Mommy, Daddy, what's going on?" said a sleepy voice.

Harley turned the camera to find the source of the voice. It belonged to a little boy, who couldn't have been more than five years old.

"Run Sammy! Get out now!" his mother screamed at him.

"Well hello there, Sammy," said Mister J as he knelt down before the boy. "Would you like to help your Mommy and Daddy?"

The boy nodded, and Mister J smiled. "Wonderful."

"Please Joker, let my wife and son go. Do whatever you want with me, but please don't hurt my family," the man pleaded as Harley refocused the camera back to the couple.

"But Aaron, I haven't done a thing to your family," said Mister J as he picked up the boy and held him in front of the camera. "You are responsible for what happens to them tonight. You should have known that putting a bounty on my head to increase your popularity in the polls would reap dire consequences. You're an intelligent man, you should have known better, but instead you chose to risk your family for politics. So know that whatever happens to them tonight, their blood will be on your hands, not mine. Apologize to your son, Aaron."

"I'm s-sorry Sammy," said Aaron, tears running down his face now.

"Why are you crying Daddy? It's okay," said Sammy, obviously unaware of what was going on.

"Very good, Aaron, very convincing. You almost sounded sincere," said Mister J as he set the boy down and, with one swift motion, snapped the boy's neck with his bare hands. His parents wailed in agony as their son's body collapsed to the ground. Mister J then cut the ropes that bound Aaron and his wife and they held onto each other in fear and despair. Mister J picked up the boy's lifeless body and tossed it to them. They clutched their dead son as their tears spilled onto his shirt.

"Sing to him," ordered Mister J. "Sammy is sleeping now, and good parents sing their children lullabies to help them sleep. Since the two of you have been such horrible parents to him, I'm going to give you a chance to redeem yourselves. Sing something, anything."

When they didn't move, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at them. "I said sing," he growled.

Slowly, the woman began to sing. Once he realized what she was singing, Aaron joined her. The shock and horror of what was going on made it nearly impossible, but somehow they managed to sing to their son.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._

_You make me happy, when skies are gray._

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you._

_Please don't take my sunshine away._

As they sang the final note, the Joker laughed gleefully and shot them both in the head. The video ended with a shot of the three of them, clown makeup on their faces.

Harleen was stunned. Never before had she seen anything so horrific and cruel. Even though she had recognized the Joker's sidekick's voice as her own, she refused to believe it was true. She wasn't capable of that kind of violence. There was no way she could ever torture another human being in such a way.

Joan took out the disk and replaced it with another. And another. Video after video of the Joker and Harley Quinn's violent crimes together. Some of them had been recorded by witnesses at crime scenes, such as the one where they blew up a bank together. Others were made by the Joker and Harley Quinn themselves, like the first. Videos made just to taunt Batman and the police. As she watched the videos, the truth became more and more obvious. Mister J, the man who had helped her and whom she had thought was kind and selfless was actually the Joker, a man who murdered for no reason other than for his own amusement. She was also beginning to see past Harley's mask and see her own face. Her face, the face of a monster. A monster so obsessed with the beast that had created her that she had completely lost touch with reality and had killed thoughtlessly, just for him. The Joker was a beast who had worn a mask of sanity to trick and seduce her into madness. She had fallen for the mask and the beast behind the mask. She was becoming nauseous; she ran over to the trash bin and vomited inside it.

It was too much. There were no words to accurately describe the way she felt then. She couldn't take it, she hated herself for what she had allowed herself to become. She dropped to the floor and burst into tears, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Turn it off! I can't take it anymore!" she screamed as Joan unplugged the TV and ran over to comfort her. "I see what I was, and I was a monster! I don't want to be a monster anymore. Please help me, please forgive me!"

"I'm sorry Harleen. I know I took that too far, but you had to understand. It's going to be okay now though, we will do everything we can to help you," said Joan, her tone a mix of relief and pity.

"Can I be cured? Is such a thing possible for me?" asked Harleen, her voice coming out in hiccupping sobs.

"You've already taken some crucial steps to healing: admitting you have a problem and seeing the error of your ways," said Joan encouragingly. "For treatment to work, you have to want to get better. I think there's hope for you yet."

xxxx

Jim Gordon turned off the bat signal just as Batman showed up.

"I assume you've heard what happened to Harley Quinn? Can you believe it?" asked Jim incredulously.

"I heard, though I'm skeptical that her latest transformation was caused by a head injury," replied Batman.

"What do you think it is? You don't think she's faking, do you? I saw the tape, and she seemed pretty sincere to me," said Jim as he took a sip of coffee.

"No, I don't think she's faking, I just think something else caused this. I have a theory, but I'm going to need a sample of her blood to test it."

"I can have that arranged. What do you think the Joker will do? He's pretty possessive about his stuff," said Jim apprehensively. "Do you think he'll hurt her?"

"I know he will, one way or another, especially if my theory is correct. Have someone guard her at all times."

"Of course."

xxxx

Bruce Wayne waited patiently as the computer analyzed the sample of Harley's blood.

The computer finished and he studied the results. He was right.

"So sir, were you correct in your assumptions or was it just a bump on the head, after all?" asked Alfred as he brought Bruce a bowl of French onion soup.

"Just as I suspected. Do you know what this means, Alfred?"

"Instead of forcing me to guess, why don't you save some time by just telling me, sir?"

"I need to know what happened to her the night she lost her memories to be sure, but according to these results Harleen will probably never again become Harley Quinn. She can resume her old life, maybe even become a psychiatrist again."

"Do you really believe that, sir?" asked Alfred skeptically.

Bruce turned to face him. "I believe that in Gotham, anything is possible."


	6. Chapter 6

**Three Days Later**

Harleen was dumbfounded. She had just had a therapy session with Dr. Leland, who had informed her of the true cause of her amnesia and apologized for her earlier assumptions. The diagnosis was unbelievable. Actually, it wasn't very surprising, which disgusted her. The cure had been horrible in and of itself, yet it had saved her. She wouldn't have to live out the rest of her life in insanity, she could have her life back. Never again would she allow herself to go down that dark road.

She couldn't believe how much she had lost, how much he had stolen from her. Years of her life, gone forever. He had stolen her sanity, her dignity, her heart. He had stolen those things and treated them as though they were worth nothing. She had regained those things and she would never let him have them again, but he could still take her life.

How much of her life was salvageable? She would never be the same as she once was, but maybe she wasn't a lost cause, after all. She had been given a second chance, and she was determined to make the most of it.

The guard escorting her to her cell was silent. He put her back in her lonely cell without a single word. Harleen laid down on her cot and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, someone entered her cell. She prayed it wasn't who she thought it was. It had been three days since he had first broken into her cell, and she had hoped he given up on her and left Arkham. She pretended to be asleep and hoped he would leave. No such luck. He sat down beside her on the cot and began to gently stroke her hair. The way he touched her, it was as if he had missed her. Like he actually _cared_ about her. She gave up the act and decided she needed to face him. How could she ever be free of him if he kept intruding in her life?

"What do you want?" she asked without opening her eyes. She wasn't quite ready to look him in the eyes just yet.

"Didn't you miss me?" he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice, mocking her.

"You need to leave, now. I don't want to see you anymore," she said, trying to sound strong.

"Why not? Did I do something to hurt your feelings?" he replied condescendingly.

Harleen opened her eyes and sat up to look him in the eye. "I know the truth about you. I know what you really are. All you've ever done is lie to me and I've always trusted you, but not anymore. Go find some other crazy to be your sidekick."

"I admit I have done quite a bit of lying, but it never bothered you very much before. At least, it never bothered you enough to make you leave me for good," he said as he gazed at her with puppy-dog eyes. "You understood that lying is one of my many quirks, and you chose to love me and my quirks anyway."

"I never loved you. I was obsessed with you. Love and obsession are two entirely different things."

"So Harleen has been a good little mental patient and has been listening to her doctors. In your current state, you'll believe anything they tell you. They could tell you that you have tentacles for arms or that your parents were armadillos and you'd still believe them unquestioningly," sneered the Joker.

"That's not true," insisted Harleen.

"Isn't it? Love and obsession go hand-in-hand, Harleen," countered the Joker with a wide grin. "You should know that better than anyone. Just because the doctors believe something doesn't automatically make it fact."

"I don't care what you think. I'm not crazy and I'm not your slave anymore. You're an insane, sadistic murderer and I don't want anything to do with you," she said as she stood up off the bed and moved as far away as possible from him as she could in the little room.

"Oh but Harleen, don't you see? It doesn't matter if you decide to dump me or not. Soon enough your memories will come back and it will be as if nothing ever happened. You'll be my little hench-wench again, and in your insane love for me you'll wonder why you ever wanted to be sane in the first place."

Harleen looked up at him, her lips curving into a grim smile. "I'm afraid the joke's on you, Joker. You see, what I have can't be cured. I'll never get those memories of my time with you back. In my mind, it's as if you never existed."

"Oh Harleen, don't give up yet. I know it must be frustrating to not have full access to your memories, but that's no reason to lose hope. My memory has been unreliable for years, and just look at me," he laughed. "Sure, it may take some time, but pretty soon your mind will fix itself, and things will go back to the way they were before."

"You don't get it, do you? It wasn't the fall. The fall and my head injury were completely coincidental. What happened to me can't be reversed. If you don't believe me, you can ask the ignorant doctors."

Harleen knew what she was about to do could literally be the last thing she ever did, but it needed to be done. And besides, once he found out the truth, he would likely kill her anyway. "Guards help! The Joker's in my cell! Somebody please help me!" she screamed.

A few of the guards rushed up to her cell and saw that she was telling the truth. They practically broke down the door to get in and grabbed the Joker, who kicked and thrashed and laughed insanely at their attempts to subdue him. As they dragged him out of her cell, he called back to her in between hysterical giggles, "It doesn't matter whether you're sane or insane Harleen, you'll always belong to me! Dead or alive, you'll always be my little harlequin!"

xxxx

The Joker was sitting in one of Arkham's less pleasant "therapy rooms." He was wearing a straightjacket and waiting patiently for the doctor to return and assign him to his new cell. He could hear them outside, talking about him. He had to bite back his laughter at the tension in their voices that they tried so hard to mask. He was flattered to know how special he was to them.

What had Harley meant, she couldn't be cured? And if her fall hadn't caused all this nonsense, what had? Maybe she was loonier than he thought.

Just then, Batman entered the room. The Joker smiled his most brilliant smile as he said, "Well Batso, long time no see, huh? I'm so sorry you didn't get to be the one to lock me up this time, so I'll make sure you get another chance after I arrange another early parole."

"Why did you come back to Arkham?" growled Batman.

"Oh you know, I was getting a bit homesick so I decided to drop by and say hello," he replied innocently.

"You came here for Harleen, didn't you?" accused Batman.

"I just love how even when you and the police already have all the answers you still insist on getting the villain to confess," said the Joker as he rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe I swung by Harley's cell a couple of times, what's it to you? You haven't got a crush on my girl, have you? Naughty naughty, Batman."

"What do you know about Harleen's amnesia? What happened to her the night it happened?" asked Batman, pointedly ignoring his comment.

"She got into a fight with Crane' stairs and lost," snickered the Joker.

Batman grabbed him by the straightjacket and barked, "I'm serious, tell me what happened."

"I'm always serious Batsy, can't you tell?" he chuckled. "And I already told you what happened, she fell down Crane's stairs and suffered some brain damage. Happy now? Probably not."

"You think her amnesia is a result of that accident, don't you?" asked Batman as he slowly released his grip on the Joker.

"I thought so, but according to Harley I'm mistaken. If it wasn't the fall, then what was it? I'm simply _dying_ to know."

"Scarecrow did this to her," replied Batman.

"Pardon?" asked the Joker, unsure if he had heard Bats correctly.

"He's created a new version of his fear toxin. It's much more powerful than before. He has already used it on several others, and he must have injected her with it as well."

"Apparently Scarecrow has a death wish," muttered Joker. It was one thing for her to lose her memories by accident; but for someone to have purposefully taken them… Scarecrow was a dead man. "I still don't understand how it made Harley forget all her memories of me, though."

"Don't you get it, Joker?" said Batman angrily. "After you drove her insane, she became completely and ridiculously obsessed with you. Whatever fears she may have had before you broke her were replaced with just one: to live in a world where you don't exist. Scarecrow's toxin is so powerful it completely remade her psyche so that in her mind, you never existed. His compound was meant to hurt her, but instead it saved her. She can live her life the way it was meant to be lived. She is free."

It took the Joker a few moments to respond. He wasn't used to being made speechless, and the feeling infuriated him. "Well then, just whip up one of your fancy antidotes and cure her already," he said with a smile that practically screamed at Batman to strike out at his words.

"If we did have a cure, do you really think we would give it to her and return her to insanity?" asked Batman with disgust.

"Denying someone the cure to their ailment? Why Batman, that's downright unethical. Perhaps I've been a bigger influence on you than I thought."

Batman had to force himself not to break his neck. "Besides, we have been completely unsuccessful in finding an antidote. It's unlike anything I have ever seen before. Unless we get lucky, anyone infected with the toxin will be incurable."

Now that really took the Joker aback. He recovered quickly and said, "Well then, I suppose there's only one thing for me to do now."

"You will not lay a hand on Harleen," snarled Batman.

"That's not up to you. Harley still belongs to me, sane or not. Since she is no longer of any use to me, I have no choice. She has to die."

Batman grabbed him again and threw him against the wall. Terrible pain shot through the Joker's body, but he just laughed as Batman grabbed him by the neck and slammed his face into the wall. It always amused the Joker how people thought they could make him see reason by putting him in a body cast. Of course, Batman was a little smarter than most people and so Joker figured that by this point he had learned that punishment had no effect on him. He assumed he was releasing some pent-up anger and other emotions he couldn't deal with without beating someone up.

Batman then shoved him up against the wall and said, "Leave her alone. After everything she did for you and everything you did to her, you owe it to her let her live. She loved you, and you would kill her just because she has regained her sanity."

"I seem to recall the doctors insisting that her so-called love for me was no more than crazed obsession. You said the same thing just a few minutes ago. If that's the case, then I don't owe her anything. If that's the case, then I see no reason for her to live. If you really want to keep her alive, then there's only one thing you have to do, and you know what that is. If I'm dead, I can't hurt her or anyone else ever again. If you really cared about her and the good citizens of Gotham, you would get rid of the biggest threat to their safety," he said as he smiled tauntingly at him.

Batman dropped the Joker and let him fall to the floor as he said, "I will never give in, and I will never fall for your tricks. You're not as powerful as you think you are. Someday you'll see the error of your ways, you'll see that people aren't as corruptible as you think. You'll see yourself for the monster you are."

"Oh, my dear Batman, if and when that ever happens, by then I'll be too old and mad to care," he said as he laughed maniacally. Batman left as several guards came in and dragged the Joker to his room.

"You can try to protect her as long as you want Bats, but you of all people should know that once you fall down the pit of insanity, there's no going back, and Harley's no exception!" laughed the Joker as Batman disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Three Months Later**

The Joker was lying on the cot in his cell, playing with some Play-doh his therapist had given him, molding it into the shape of a sailboat. It was supposed to give him something to do with his hands and distract him from his dark thoughts. While it succeeded in entertaining his hands, it in no way distracted him from his thoughts.

Harleen had been reinstated as a psychiatrist a few days ago. He wondered who had signed her sanity certificate. It had only been three months, so either the people of Gotham were far too trusting or they were running low on doctors willing to treat rogues like himself. It was probably both.

For three months solid he had been sitting in this cell, not once had they let him out. While this arrangement irked him, it gave him more than enough time to think and plan. He had to watch himself; if he let his thoughts wander they would inevitably drift to Crane and how he would torture him to death. Crane would die, but for now he needed to focus on Harleen.

There was no way he was going to let her come out of this alive. If Batman thought he could protect her from him, well, it was almost insulting. To think that Batman had any control over him and who he chose to kill! The only reason he was in here now was because he had chosen to stay so he could keep an eye on her. In fact, he had decided tonight was the perfect time to escape and set things right.

He pulled himself off the bed and put one hand on the door of his cell and the other on his abdomen. "Guard, I think my doctor got the dosage wrong on my medicine. My stomach hurts…" he moaned.

"Shut up," came the guard's uncaring reply. He was no fool when it came to the Joker's tricks. Or so he thought.

"I really think something's wrong, the room is spinning," said the Joker as he suddenly vomited all over the floor.

The guard looked in as the Joker collapsed to the floor, seemingly unconscious. He realized that he wasn't faking and immediately rushed in to help. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to keep the Joker alive, but his paycheck depended on the lunatic, so he knew he couldn't just let the man die. He bent over him to check if he was breathing. The instant he touched him the Joker suddenly pounced on him, obviously still alive and well. He pinned the man down and grabbed the Play-doh he had been playing with and shoved it down the man's throat. The guard grunted in pain and horror as he clutched at his throat. A minute or two later, the man's lifeless body crumpled on the floor. The Joker quickly swapped uniforms with him and stole his gun and keys and within a matter of minutes was on his way out.

Before he could leave, however, there was some unfinished business he needed to attend to. He went to find the man who had lately been causing him more problems than Batsy himself.

He snuck around Arkham, easily evading the guards. He was a master at keeping himself hidden when he didn't want to be caught. After a lot of searching, he finally found him down in the laundry room washing his clothes. The Joker quickly took out the guard watching him and grabbed him by the throat.

"Just the man I wanted to see," said the Joker with a merciless smile on his face.

"I've been expecting you. Took longer than I thought it would for you to break out," Scarecrow wheezed.

"Why'd you do it, Crane?" he asked curiously. "Surely you knew that such stupidity would inevitably result in a horrible demise."

"I hadn't planned to infect Harley with my toxin, but I decided it was time to teach you a lesson," coughed Crane. "I didn't want to hurt Harley, I'm actually quite fond of her, but it was the only way I could really get to you. Since my toxins don't work on you, I infected the closest thing to you, instead. I hadn't expected it to make her forget you like it did, that was just a bonus. You really had it coming, you know. Replacing my toxins with your Joker Venom was going too far, even for you."

"On the contrary, I believe what you did was going too far. You and everyone else in Gotham should know by now that I'm very possessive of my things. Harley belonged to me, but because of you she will never be mine again. Not in life, anyway."

"Oh, how sweet. The Joker finally admits his love for his little sidekick."

Without loosening his grip on him, the Joker punched Crane in the nose as hard as he could. He felt the bone break as blood spurted all over his face. Scarecrow whimpered in pain as he struggled for breath.

"I never loved her, you imbecile. I just don't like it when people break my playthings. I break my stuff, no one else. No one hurts Harley except for me. No one touches her or breaks her _except for me_. If I can't have her in life, then she will be mine in death. But before I kill her, I'm going to kill the one responsible for my current predicament." The Joker pulled out the guard's keys and used one of them to begin digging into Crane's throat. "It's been nice knowing you, Crane old buddy."

"Wait!" cried Scarecrow. "I can cure her, I can cure Harley."

"That's a filthy lie," said Joker, amused by how frightened Crane was. So much for only being afraid of bats. "There is no cure for your wonder-toxin. You'd say anything right now to live."

"No, I'm telling the truth," said Crane, his tone almost pleading. "I developed an antidote before I was arrested. I've managed to keep it hidden from Batman and the doctors. If you promise not to kill me, I'll give it to you."

"And just why should I believe you? How could an idiot like you come up with an antidote when Bats and the rest of Gotham's scientists can't?" he jeered as he continued to carve his throat with the key, drawing blood.

"Batman doesn't know as much as he'd like us to think. Same goes for the rest of Gotham's scientists and doctors. Look, go ahead and kill me if you want, but if you do, you'll have thrown away your only chance at having Harley back."

"Where is this imaginary antidote? Assuming it does exist, how have you kept it hidden for so long?" asked Joker, unable to deny his curiosity.

"First you have to promise that you won't kill me," demanded Crane.

"Now where's the fun in that?" asked Joker with a frown.

"Promise, or you'll be stuck with Harleen forever," threatened Crane.

"Not a problem, I'll just kill her," replied Joker, uncaring.

"Go ahead then, kill us both. Have fun spending the rest of your pathetic excuse of a life alone. Just remember, you could have had her back."

The Joker really didn't care whether she lived or died, and he really wanted to kill Crane, but he was curious about the antidote. "I'll right Crane, you win this round. I promise not to kill you. Cross my heart and hope to die," said the Joker as he released Scarecrow, sounding like a disappointed child. "I'll settle with making you wish you were dead, instead. It's far more than you deserve."

"Fair enough," said Crane as he rubbed his throat and tried to staunch the blood pouring from his nose. "The antidote is in my old hideout, the one you and Harley violated a few months ago. It's hidden in a box underneath the floorboard in the lower level of my lab, next to the first row of potions."

"Just out of curiosity, why would you develop an antidote to your own beloved toxin?" inquired the Joker, his interest piqued.

"When I heard no one had been able to create a cure, I wanted to see if I could. I would have destroyed it, but I kept it just for this occasion."

"Just so you know, if I look in that box and don't find the antidote or the antidote turns out to be a fake, deal's off," the Joker warned dangerously.

"Of course. There is something I should tell you, though. The antidote isn't guaranteed to work. I tested it out on three people. One was cured completely and became immune to the toxin. The other two weren't so lucky. Both were dead by morning."

"So what you're saying is, there's a two in three chance that Harley could die if I give her the antidote?" asked Joker.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I know you don't care, but I felt I should warn you."

Tired of listening to the noise coming out of his mouth, the Joker grabbed Crane and stuffed him into one of the dryers. He laughed as Crane pounded on the door and yelled for him to let him out. Making Crane's life a living hell was going to be fun. This got him to thinking; if you tortured a sane man long enough he became insane, so what happened if you tortured an insane man for long enough? He would find out soon enough but first, the antidote.


	8. Chapter 8

Harleen walked down the dark corridors of Arkham closely followed by two guards. This arrangement was not new; in fact, it had been this way since the Joker had been re-admitted three months ago. The difference today was she was no longer a patient. She was a doctor.

When they had told her it was possible that she could resume her old lifestyle, she had been very skeptical. But now that it had actually happened, it seemed surreal. She had worked so hard to recover and to prove her sanity; she had taken her meds and listened to her doctors, and it had finally paid off. Harley Quinn was gone forever.

Dr. Leland had suggested that she think of Harley Quinn as though she were an entirely different person. Harleen rather liked the idea, as it helped to ease the guilt she felt for her time spent with the Joker. Instead of saying "I used to work for the Joker," she would say "Harley used to work for the Joker." In her opinion, Harleen Quinzel and Harley Quinn were two completely different people.

With a certificate verifying her sanity in her hands, she entered her new office. Technically it was her old office, but she had no recollection of ever having even been in it. It was rather cramped, but she didn't care. It was her office, and that was what mattered.

As she hung her certificate on the wall, she could hear her guards outside talking. It was annoying having to be guarded at all times, but she understood and accepted it. She was still in danger after all, and would probably be for the rest of her life.

The Joker had not been allowed out of his cell the entire time he had been in Arkham. All his meals and therapy sessions took place in his room. Compared to the way he normally behaved in the asylum, he had been a model patient. He had taken his medications and hadn't even asked for his makeup back. Despite his history, it was becoming harder to remember what he was. She knew, as well as the other doctors, that he was doing it to lull them into a false sense of security, waiting until just the right moment to strike.

That moment had apparently come last night. The Joker had murdered the guard watching his cell (with Play-doh no less, once again proving that he could not be trusted with any type of object, no matter how harmless and non-threatening it appeared.) He had escaped the asylum, but not before he supposedly locked Jonathan Crane in a dryer.

Crane had been found beaten and trapped in a dryer in the middle of the night. He had told his doctor that the Joker had meant to turn the dryer on and kill him to avenge Harley, but had been unable to figure out how to do so. The Clown Prince of Crime, unable to use a simple dryer. The very notion that the Joker was inept at using even the most basic of machines was laughable. Besides, assuming he was telling the truth, he would have found another way to kill him, he would never have given up that easy. Crane was obviously hiding something from them. There was no way the Joker would let him live after what he had done to him, something else must have happened to him, but what?

The fact that the Joker was on the loose made her fear for her life even more than usual. No doubt he would want to kill her, and the Joker nearly always got what he wanted. Free or incarcerated, as long as he was around, her life continuously hung in the balance.

She found herself almost wishing he would do something. Constantly having to look over her shoulder and hope he wasn't there with a knife was getting to her, she was becoming paranoid. She wasn't eating much and she was having trouble sleeping. Despite her fears, however, she had refused to go to another hospital or run and hide. She was his main target (besides Batman, of course) and no matter where she went she knew he would find her, so what use was there in hiding? Maybe it was foolish, but she would not let him win by hiding from him like a frightened child.

Later that morning, Harleen was off to see her first patient. His name was Thomas Schiff, a paranoid schizophrenic. He had worked for the Joker some time ago, a fact that had made her nervous at first. Of course, he wasn't the Joker himself so she had nothing to worry about, but the fact that he had worked for him was still disconcerting.

As she walked to her assigned therapy room flanked by her bodyguards, another doctor approached her and stood in her way. Harleen began to panic, had she done something wrong?

"Hi, I'm Guy Kopski. You're Dr. Quinzel, right?" he said with a welcoming smile as he extended his hand.

"Yes, pleased to meet you," said Harleen as she shook his hand and her panic dissipated.

"You're probably on your way to see a patient, so I won't keep you long. I just wanted to ask if you would be interested in having dinner with me on Friday."

"S-Sure, I would love to," said Harleen, surprised that he would want to date a former whack-job.

"Great," he said, his smile widening. "Good luck with your first patient."

"Thank you," said Harleen as he walked off. Wow, she had only been officially sane for a few days and she already had a date. Things were beginning to look up.

She found her room and unlocked the door. The room was quite spacious (or at least it was more spacious than she had expected) and contained one chair and a bed. She sat down in the chair and waited patiently for her patient to arrive. A few minutes later Schiff was brought in. He looked nervous, but not because of her, she was sure.

"Hello Thomas," said Harleen as she turned on her tape recorder and gestured for him to lie down on the bed. He laid down and stared up at the ceiling as though there were something incredibly interesting up there.

"Hello," he mumbled without taking his eyes off the ceiling.

"My name is Dr. Quinzel. Do you know why you're here?" she asked, hoping she sounded calm and collected.

"Because I used to work for the Joker and because people think I'm crazy," he replied matter-of-factly. Undoubtedly this was not the first time he had been asked that question.

"Why don't we start there. Why do people think you're crazy?"

"Because I hear voices that talk to me. They say I'm crazy and that the voices aren't real, but if they aren't real, then why do I hear them?" he said, his tone frustrated. "Just because others can't hear them doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Why did you work for the Joker?" asked Harleen, wanting to change the subject from voices. "Surely you knew how dangerous he is."

"Of course I knew, but the voices said I could trust him. Usually they tell me not to trust anyone, they say people will hurt me, but they said the Joker would help us."

"Help you how?" asked Harleen curiously.

"They said that only he could help, that I should do whatever he said," said Schiff, as if he hadn't heard her.

"Do they still tell you to trust him?"

"No. They say I should kill myself. I've tried, but the doctors won't let me. The voices scream at me to commit suicide, and I scream back and try to make them understand that I can't. I try and fail, but they won't listen to me. Why won't they listen to me?" he shouted at her.

"Thomas, you need to stop listening to the voices. I know it's hard, but they only want to hurt you. Have you been taking your medication?" asked Harleen, unsure if she should end the session or keep going.

"They told me not to, they don't like it when I take the pills. Whenever I take the pills they stop talking to me. They ignore me until I stop taking the medicine. Once I stop taking the meds, they come back," said Schiff, his voice shaking.

"Thomas listen, you need that medicine. It will help you. The voices aren't good for you, they need to leave you, but they won't unless you take your medicine. Don't you want the voices to stop screaming at you?"

"Only they can protect me. Without them, I'll die," said Schiff, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"Thomas, the voices are trying to make you kill yourself. They want you to die. If you want to live, you need to take your medication."

"They don't want me to listen to you."

It took the rest of the hour for Harleen to convince Thomas to take his medication. He reluctantly agreed, but she had a bad feeling he had no intention of taking his meds. Even so, she believed the session had been a victory, if only a tiny one in a great war. The war on insanity was never ending, but she felt that even the smallest battle won was worth something.

Harleen spent the rest of the day in her office studying Schiff's file and the session they had just had. When it was time to leave, she said goodbye to her bodyguards and drove home to her apartment. Once inside, she undressed and stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to soothe away her worries and fears.

After her shower, she put on her pajamas and watched a movie on TV until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She went to her room and was just about to collapse on her bed when someone hit her over the head and knocked her out cold.


	9. Chapter 9

Harleen woke up and found herself gagged and tied to chair. She felt fear course through her as she tried to free herself without success. She looked around and realized she was still in her apartment. She could hear music coming from her stereo system; slow, romantic music, and the only light in the room came from three candles glowing brightly on the coffee table.

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt someone put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hello Harleen. I've been waiting for you to join me," said the Joker as he pulled the gag out of her mouth.

"If you're going to kill me, then just get it over with. Please don't make me suffer first," said Harleen quietly, proud of herself for sounding so calm.

"What makes you think I would want to kill you?" asked the Joker innocently as he cut her loose. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. I've missed you."

Once she was free of the chair, the Joker wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed at her intensely. As he did so, she noticed that she was no longer wearing pajamas; she was now wearing a strapless red dress. Not only had he broken into her apartment and knocked her unconscious, he had also taken the time to dress her up.

As he embraced her he began to move with the music, and she was forced to move with him. She realized with surprise that they were dancing together. She was tempted to shove him away and run for her life, but she danced with him instead. Maybe if she played his psychotic game he would let her survive the night. Yeah right.

"So, you're a psychiatrist again. How's that going?" asked Joker in a friendly tone.

"It's been great so far," she replied, trying to hide her fear with indifference.

It surprised her how comfortable she felt dancing. Needless to say, being in his arms made her feel uneasy, to say the least, but the dancing itself helped to calm her. She had always loved to dance, and she had once even considered becoming a professional dancer, but she had chosen to be a psychiatrist, instead. Although, judging by her current predicament, she kind of wished she had chosen dancing.

"So far," he repeated. "I'm sure it seems very exciting right now, but pretty soon you'll be old and gray and wishing you hadn't wasted your life on loony-island trying to fix a bunch of whack-jobs."

"Says the man who dresses up like a clown and kills for a living." She decided right then and there that she wasn't going to let him bully her anymore. No more fear, live or die, she was determined to beat him the only way that she could.

He laughed and pulled her closer to him. "So the doctor has a sense of humor after all. Funny though, I bet you haven't laughed since before the incident with Crane."

Harleen chose to ignore that.

"How do like the dress? It used to be yours way back when," said the Joker cheerfully. "Of course, to really complete the look you'd need some proper makeup, but it still looks good on you, regardless."

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't dress me up, Joker," she said tersely.

"I completely agree. I'd much rather undress you, it's much more fun," purred the Joker.

"Why are you doing this, Joker?" she asked as he continued to spin her around the room.

"Back in the good old days, you loved to dance. You always begged me to dance with you. I usually just ignored you, but there were times when I would indulge you. I have to say, you were pretty good. I even found myself enjoying it sometimes," he said wistfully.

"I mean, why are you making such a huge production out of this?" Harleen asked, exasperated.

"Tonight's your night Harleen, I'm just trying to make it special for you. Don't tell me you're not enjoying yourself," he said, as though he were horrified at the very thought.

"My night, huh? Then why don't you just get it over with and kill me already?" said Harleen, her voice breaking at the end.

"You want to die?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"No, but if I'm going to die tonight I'd like to get it over with," she said, determined to not let him see the fear in her. A pretty pointless effort, but still.

"Party pooper. You're so much less fun now. Can't we have just one night of fun? Or are you allergic to fun now?"

"Your idea of fun is to go around Gotham shooting people at random and trying to kill Batman," she said disapprovingly.

"Usually you'd be right, but right now I just want to spend some time with my girl. That's not so bad, is it?" he said with those puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm not your girl anymore," she reminded him.

"You'll always be my girl," he countered with a smile.

"Why are you talking to me like you love me? Harley might have fallen for your tricks, but I'm not stupid," said Harleen, tired of his attempts to make her question her own sanity.

"Referring to yourself in third person now, eh? Something sane people do all the time," he said mockingly as she glared at him angrily. "Besides, it doesn't matter if I love you or not, because I know that you still love me, even if Crane's concoction made you forget it."

"I said it before and I'll say it again. I never loved you. It was a sick, twisted, unhealthy obsession," she insisted.

"Obsession, huh? I don't think an obsession would cause your greatest fear to change. Before me, your worst fear was probably spiders or a bad hair day. But once you fell for me, you loved me so much that you couldn't stand to live without me. Kind of romantic, in a weird and crazy way. You can tell yourself it was just an obsession all you want until you become convinced that it's the truth, but it never will be. Not really."

"You talk as if I'm the crazy one, yet you are insanity and chaos incarnate. Even if Harley did love you, I never will. Harley is dead, she should never have existed in the first place. She may have needed you, but I don't."

"You look to the future and see yourself becoming successful and getting married and having babies. You see yourself becoming a respected psychiatrist," he said as he continued to dance with her. "You think you have a life to live, but you don't. Without me, your life is meaningless. You choose not to see it, but it's the truth. There is none so blind as she who will not see. Lie to yourself all you want, but the fact of the matter is, you need me," he whispered in her ear.

"It doesn't matter what you think. There is no antidote to Scarecrow's fear toxin, and I'll never join you again. Kill me if you wish, but in the end the only loser will be you," said Harleen with a grim smile of triumph.

To her surprise, Joker tossed back his head and laughed. "Oh Harleen, how you make me laugh. You see, I can have you back. Scarecrow gave me the antidote to his wonderful little fear toxin, and you know what the best part is? It's more likely to kill you than cure you!"

Harleen gasped in shock, now she was truly afraid, no longer could she pretend to be brave. She didn't want to die, but she had accepted it because it had seemed inevitable. But to become insane again, to become his addicted slave once more and murder without feeling even a hint of remorse… it made her sick just thinking about it. She would take death a thousand times over just to keep her sanity. Maybe he didn't have the antidote, maybe he was lying, but she knew he wasn't. For the second time in her life he was going to steal her most valuable possession from her. She fought back tears, she refused to go down without a fight.

She kicked him as hard as she could in the gut and wrenched herself from his arms and ran for the door. It took him only a second to recover and he immediately raced up and grabbed her by her hair. She yelled in pain as he forcefully dragged her back. Not letting go of her hair, he knocked her to the floor and kicked her again and again in the chest and punched her in the face as she tried to scream for help. The agonizing pain made it difficult for her to think clearly, but she wasn't going to surrender that easy.

As he continued to beat her, she sank her teeth into his leg and he yelped as she escaped from his grasp and ran for the kitchen. Harleen grabbed a knife as he chased after her, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold it. He ran up to her and as he lunged for her she ducked and drove the blade deep into his arm.

"You've still got some fire in you. I like that," he said as he pulled the knife out of his arm, blood soaking his sleeve.

She ran into her room and began stacking things in front of the door to try to keep him out, but she wasn't fast enough. He burst through the door and grabbed her by the hair again and slammed her head into the bedpost. Not hard enough to kill her or knock her out, just enough to temporarily incapacitate her. Her head exploded with pain and she couldn't move or defend herself from him. She could only watch as he triumphed over her.

He bent down over her and traced one of the scars he had once given her with his index finger. He had carved _J _just below her neck. That scar had served as a painful reminder of what she had once been, it also constantly reminded her that she would never be completely free of her past. Just looking at it brought her guilt and anguish.

"Remember when I made this?" he asked, as though she could possibly remember. "I like to sign my work, and I was going to carve it into your back but you said no. You asked me to carve it on your chest so you could see it and think of me. One of my favorite memories of us together."

"Why do you continue to talk as if you ever loved me?" asked Harleen as the tears she had fought so hard to keep from escaping rolled down her bruised cheeks. "You're incapable of love, no matter what Harley believed."

"If you insist on referring to yourself in third person, then I'll play along. True, I don't love, but I was always quite fond of her, even before she became my sidekick. She was the one person who understood my view of life, she came closer than anyone else has ever come to getting the joke. She was usually a pain and an annoyance, but there were times when she made me laugh, when I actually enjoyed having her around. I meant what I said before, I do miss her, a little. That's why I have to bring her back," he said as he pulled a needle filled with a clear substance out of nowhere.

"So you're going to steal my sanity again. You obviously never loved me or Harley Quinn, or you wouldn't be here now. You wouldn't be tormenting me, you would let me keep my mind," she said as she tried to think of a way of escape. She could think of nothing she could say or do to persuade him to release her, so all she could do was keep him talking, which wasn't very hard to do.

"I never stole your sanity, you gave it to me willingly. I never had to steal anything from you, because you were always willing to give everything up, just for me. Don't go blaming all of this on me, Harleen. I know I'm not blameless when it comes to you and your mental health, but I've messed with the minds of plenty of people and none of them ever came to worship me like you did. You chose to become Harley Quinn, you chose to be mine, and who was I to deny you?"

"Shut up!" Harleen shouted. "Who cares what I was before, I'm different now, and I'm sorry for what I did! I don't know why I chose to become that, I don't know why I gave up everything for you, but I do know this. I know that I made the worst mistake of my life in doing so and I don't plan to ever make that same mistake again!"

"Don't worry, I'll do it for you," said the Joker as he smoothed back her hair and brandished the needle before her eyes.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she cried desperately. "I'm not Harley! Harley's dead and she should stay that way! Why can't you just let me live my life and forget she ever existed? If you ever cared for her at all, you'd let her stay dead and move on with your life. Let me go or kill me, but do not force me to become that monster again!"

"Sorry Harley," he whispered with a smile as he jabbed the needle into her neck.


	10. Chapter 10

Harleen awoke alone on the floor of her bedroom. Her head throbbed as she tried to remember what had happened. Then it hit her. Her sore body reminded her of the events of the night before; he had given her the antidote. Had it worked, was she insane now? She didn't feel insane, but obviously that was nothing to go by. How would she know if she was crazy or not? She supposed there was only one way to tell. She thought of the Joker, she pictured him in her mind. Did the image in her head make her swoon and want to kiss him? No, and she was surprised. The thought of him brought fear and disgust, not love. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was still sane. If that was the case, then what had been in that needle? The Joker wasn't exactly the most honest person in the world, but she didn't think he would lie about having a cure. Apparently he had had a change of heart.

Why had he not cured her? Why was she still alive? Had something she said stirred something within him? Probably not. But he had let her live for a reason. What that reason was, she had no idea. Maybe he wasn't as evil and heartless as everyone thought. No, that was ridiculous. There was no good in the Joker, none at all. But still, his apparent act of mercy made her wonder.

Perhaps there was more to the Joker than she and everyone else thought.

xxxxx

The Joker wandered down the streets of Gotham, the dark of the night hiding his identity from the few stragglers who passed by him. He could have ordered one of his men to pick him up, but he needed time to think. His arm throbbed where she had stabbed him, but he disregarded the pain. He had far more important things to think about.

Why had he let her go? She should be cured or dead by now, but she was neither. Why had he spared her? He couldn't understand it, but as he had held her in his arms, as he had made her bleed, he had found that he couldn't force the cure on her, nor could he take her life. He had switched out the antidote for a sedative at the last minute while she had been distracted, and he had no idea why he had done that. It made no sense, he wanted so badly to cure or kill her, and he had been unable to. He had had the perfect chance, and he had wasted it. What was wrong with him? Killing was second nature to him, but was he going soft? The very thought was horrifying.

A woman chatting on a cell phone passed by him, and without even thinking about it he grabbed her and dragged her into an alley. He covered her mouth to muffle her screams as he took out his knife. He unleashed all his rage and hatred for Harleen on the woman as he sliced open her throat, her blood spraying all over his face. He stabbed her again and again, unable to control himself any longer. He continued to drive the blade into her body long after she was dead, and even though he knew it was no longer necessary to attack he didn't want to stop. As he stared into her dead, terrified eyes all he could see were Harleen's baby-blue eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he took out his makeup and painted her face. He used her own blood for her lips and even to touch up his own lipstick. As he did so, he was able to calm down.

It had been so long since he had lost control like that. While it was not unusual for him to go above and beyond the requirements of murdering someone, he always did it because it amused him, because he wanted to, not because he was unable to stop himself from doing it. He hated it when he lost control, it made him feel like he was no different than any other criminal in Gotham. Sure, he could be impulsive, he would often do things that he himself had not expected, but he was always the one in control. He was crazy, that was certain, but he was always sure to maintain control of himself, and he hated it when someone caused him to lose that self-control.

He looked at his work with satisfaction and came to a decision.

Harleen's freedom would come with a price. Every day she did not die, someone else would. As long as she lived, others would die in her place, just like this woman had. Let her live her pathetic excuse of a life. Let her be a slave to the system like all the others. One day she would learn. And even if she didn't, even if she was too stupid and stubborn to see the truth, he didn't need her. She needed him, even if she refused to see it. She no longer laughed at life as he did, so life would undoubtedly laugh at her.

xxxxx

Harleen went back to work at Arkham. Months passed with no sign of the Joker except for the bodies with painted faces piling up. Somehow, she knew it was because of her. Despite all the murders he was committing, no one could find him, much less catch him. Even Batman had been unable to apprehend him, which was saying quite a lot. She had read his file and had learned some painful truths about him. When he didn't want to be caught, any attempt to arrest him was futile. Although no one wanted to admit it, the Joker could only be caught when he wanted to be caught or just didn't care if he escaped or not. To him, Arkham was a no more than a vacation home, a sanctuary where he could go to rest in between his "performances" and plot his next big scheme. He would stay until he no longer felt like staying, and then he would escape again. He truly was an unstoppable force.

She continued to treat Schiff. There were days when she thought she could see a glimmer of hope in him, that maybe he was close to a breakthrough. Most days though, it was hard to believe he could ever recover. It was a difficult job, but she believed it was what she was meant to do.

She and Guy became a couple. He was a wonderful man, surprising her with flowers and taking her to fancy restaurants. He really seemed to like her, and she had to admit she liked him, too.

Her life was better than she had dared hope possible, yet she couldn't help but feel like something was missing. She ignored her misgivings and chose to be grateful for the second chance she had been given. Her life was far from perfect, and she would be a fool to expect it to be. As far as she was concerned, her life was close enough to perfect. She was a princess who had escaped the dragon and had found her prince. What more could she ask for?

xxxxx

The Joker spent his days in an abandoned amusement park. He had long since killed all his henchmen and so he was all alone, which suited him just fine. He enjoyed the solitude, it was almost peaceful.

Every few days or so he would go stir up some trouble for the Dork Knight to deal with, but most of the time he spent planning his next big scheme, making sure it was perfect in every way. He had no idea when he would go through with his latest plan, but when he did, Bats and the rest of Gotham would never forget it.

Once a day he would leave the park to find Harleen's replacement. Someone had to die for her. Man, woman or child, he didn't care. As long as blood was spilt, he was satisfied.

As he killed these people every day, he was able to forget her, for the most part. As each day passed, he thought of her less and less, until she was no more than a ghost haunting the edges of his mind.

Even though he could barely remember her, he still felt her. There was a hole in his chest that he didn't realize existed. The hole festered and grew larger every day, and yet he had no knowledge of its very existence.

He could not understand the emotions that continuously gnawed at him like a beast, that plagued him like a disease. The feelings inside him were weak and quite easily ignored, but they existed nonetheless. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of them he was powerless to kill them entirely. Harleen had left a gaping hole in his life, a wound that, like the smiling cuts in his face, would eventually heal but would leave a terrible scar.

Although neither of them knew it, every night they would both look out their window at the exact same time to look at the night sky. Neither of them knew why they did it, they just felt compelled to do so.

Harleen had her life back, yet she felt incomplete somehow. The Joker was happy with the way his life was going, he was back to fighting Batsy and putting smiles on people's faces with only himself to look after, yet he felt a dull ache in his chest that irritated him beyond belief. They both longed for something, but neither had a clue as to what that thing was. They would both just stare at the stars, as though they might find some answers if they just looked hard enough.


	11. Chapter 11

**One Year Later**

Harleen was still alive, which was saying a lot. Ever since the incident last year, the Joker had not bothered her at all. She was still on her guard at all times, but slowly, she was beginning to feel safe again, or about as safe as one can feel in Gotham.

She and Guy were on a date in one of Gotham's nicest restaurants. She couldn't believe he had gotten reservations, a practically impossible feat.

They had been talking about their patients when Guy suddenly got down on one knee.

"Harleen, I love you so much. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked as he pulled out a lovely diamond ring.

Harleen gasped. They were quite serious, but never had she expected him to propose. She hesitated, unsure of her answer. Was she ready for marriage? Did she want to marry Guy? He was wonderful and he really seemed to love her, but did she love him, truly love him? Guy was waiting, she needed to give him her answer. She made her decision.

"Yes," she breathed with a smile.

Guy breathed a sigh of relief, as though he had expected her to say no. He slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her deeply. This was it, wasn't it? Her happily ever after was finally happening. So why did she feel like she was making a mistake?

The next morning, Guy's ring on her finger, Harleen walked into Arkham to discover that the Joker had finally been recaptured. The fact that he was back where he belonged was both a cause for relief and stress for her.

On her way to see her patient, Harleen passed by his cell. He was unconscious from the tranquilizers they had given him. His face was clean of makeup and, except for the green hair and his smiling scars, he looked quite normal. In sleep, he seemed almost harmless. She shook those ridiculous thoughts away. He was the opposite of normal and harmless.

"I remember when you still worked for the boss," said Schiff unexpectedly during their session. "I can't explain it, but the boss seemed different somehow when he was around you."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Harleen. He hadn't mentioned Harley once during their sessions, until now. She was used to him going on about whatever topic interested him, no matter how random. Still, she hadn't expected him to be thinking about Harley, and he had caught her a bit off guard.

"I remember one time when one of the guys tried to touch Harley," said Schiff, ignoring her question, as usual. Once he went off into his own little world, it was hard to reach him and bring him back to reality. "He was trying to have his way with her and she screamed for the boss. I had never seen the boss get that furious before. He tortured the guy for hours until he was crying and begging him to just kill him. He dismembered him, and as a lesson to the rest of us he made us sew him back together. He sure made his point, no one ever tried messing with her again. Harley must have really meant a lot to him."

"Harley didn't mean anything to him, Thomas. He kept her around because she was a servant who wouldn't betray him," argued Harleen.

"True, but it was more than that," Schiff replied. "I miss talking to her. She was always kind to us, even after that creep tried to hurt her."

"You should forget about her, Thomas. Harley is gone and she's never coming back," Harleen insisted.

"No she's not, she's alive inside of you," he said simply.

Harleen ended the session early, not wanting to hear anymore. As she was walking to her office, she felt a sudden urge to go to the storage room.

"Why not," muttered Harleen to herself. It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

She found the storage room and went inside. She searched until she found the drawer labeled "Harley Quinn." Curious, she opened it and explored the assortment of objects inside. She didn't find much, but there were a couple of things that interested her. The first was Harley's costume. She couldn't imagine herself wearing it, much less committing crimes in it.

She also found some DVDs marked "The Joker and Harley Quinn." Her curiosity piqued, she snuck the disks back to her office to watch them.

She put the first disk in. When Joan had shown these to her before they had made her distraught with guilt and grief, so she didn't know why she was so interested in the videos now.

In the first video someone had recorded of one of their schemes. She watched as the Joker and Harley Quinn set off huge fireworks that spelled out "J + HQ 4ever." She watched as Harley threw her arms around his neck and he kissed her with a passion that seemed to burn brighter than the fireworks. After the video ended, she found herself watching another. And another. The first time she had watched these videos she had been horrified by the chaos and destruction, but this time she watched from a different angle. She focused not on the crimes as everyone else always did, but on the criminals themselves.

She was enamored by Joker and Harley's relationship. Harley had been obsessed with the psycho, and she seemed so happy to be with him. She always wore a huge smile on her face, especially when he was with her. Even when he wasn't paying her any attention or even hurting her, she still loved him. She joyfully took the bad with the good. She seemed so wonderfully, blissfully happy, it was unreal. As she watched the disks, Harleen found herself wondering if maybe Harley's feelings for the Joker weren't just obsession, if it was something more. Harley was insane, but she was happy that way. It was as if all she ever wanted in life was his love in return, and even when he denied her she still clung to him. She cared for Guy, but she didn't think she could ever come close to being as devoted to him as Harley had been to the Joker.

She didn't have time to watch all the disks that day, so whenever she had free time on her hands she would watch them. She told herself it was all in the name of research, but in all honesty she couldn't stop thinking about Harley Quinn. She was determined to understand her old self, and to understand what it was about the Joker that had made Harley so pathetically loyal to him. Part insanity, part something else, something Harleen couldn't figure out.

After she finished the disks, she re-watched them. It was unhealthy, she knew, but she had to understand. She would never admit it, but she found herself wanting what Harley had: real love. Not the kind of love in fairy tales, the love that is seemingly perfect and brings princesses happily ever afters. She wanted real love, the kind that isn't always perfect but doesn't need to be. She wanted to love Guy like Harley loved Joker (minus the insanity, of course) but she wasn't sure if she could. She wondered what was wrong with her. She wondered if maybe she was wrong about Harley Quinn.

xxxxx

This was it. Her wedding day had finally arrived. Harleen gazed at herself in the mirror in her long white gown. The dress was absolutely beautiful, and in it she felt beautiful, too. She was excited and nervous. She was trying to calm down, but she couldn't seem to get a hold of herself. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and yet she couldn't get over the feeling that something was wrong about this.

She took her bouquet of roses and left the dressing room and prepared to walk down the aisle. As she did so, she breathed in the lovely scent of the flowers and was able to relax slightly.

She heard them begin to play the music and she began the long walk down the aisle. Each step seemed to require great effort.

_Calm down_, she told herself. _Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day, you are not going to back out now._

After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached the altar. Guy was dashing in his tuxedo, and his joyful smile only added to his good looks.

As she handed the flowers to Joan, who had agreed to be her maid of honor, something caught her eye. Without thinking, she pulled them back to get a closer look.

A note was pinned to the flowers. How she had missed it before was beyond her, but she didn't care. She read the note.

_Congratulations Harleen, may the two of you live a long and happy life together. –J_

That did it. She wasn't sure what it was about that message, but she couldn't go through with the wedding. She looked around; everyone was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had.

"Excuse me, Miss Quinzel? Are you all right?" asked the priest, looking concerned and a bit annoyed.

"I'm not sure if I can do this. Can I have some time to think?" she asked, unable to break it to Guy that the wedding was off.

"S-Sure. Take all the time you need," said Guy, his tone hurt and confused.

"Thanks," said Harley as she quickly kissed his cheek. She ran out of the church, not caring at that moment what they or anyone else thought of her.

She needed to talk to someone. Joan came to mind, but how could she explain the situation to her? She didn't feel comfortable talking about this with Joan, because she knew she could never possibly understand what she was going through.

She needed to talk to someone who could help her, a friend who would listen and not judge her for chickening out. Someone she could trust. Since she didn't have anyone like that, she decided to go with the next best thing. The person who they told her had once been her best friend.

Poison Ivy.


	12. Chapter 12

Harleen burst through the doors of Arkham. She had not taken the time to change out of her gown and she ignored all the stares she was receiving. To her immense relief, no one tried to stop her. This was an asylum after all, they had probably seen weirder things than a mad woman in a wedding dress running through the halls.

She ran until she found her cell. She had never visited her before, but she knew where she was being held. She looked inside; Pamela Isley was sitting on her cot holding a potted flower, stroking it lovingly.

Harleen still had trouble believing that she had once been friends with the crazy plant lady, but then again, Poison Ivy wasn't exactly the first weirdo she had gotten close to.

She punched in the code to the door and rushed inside. Pamela jerked up at the noise, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

"I knew you'd come by sooner or later. All right, what's the matter?" asked Pam as she set down the plant, as though nothing had changed between them.

Harleen opened her mouth to speak, but instead she burst into tears. She fell to her knees and sobbed as Pam held her and tried to comfort her.

After a few minutes of sobbing hysterically on Pam's shoulder, Harleen regained control of herself. She couldn't believe she had just allowed her emotions to explode out of control in front of a patient, but Pam didn't seem to mind.

"What's wrong Harley? You would never have come to me if you didn't have some major problem going on in your life," said Pam, not sounding hurt, just stating a fact.

"I don't know what to do and you're the only person I could come to. In case you couldn't tell by the dress, I'm supposed to be getting married today, but I can't do it," said Harleen, ashamed of herself.

"Why not? Most women would kill to be in your place at Guy's side," said Pam. Personally, Dr. Kopski wasn't her type, but he sure was nice to look at.

"How did you know his name was Guy?" asked Harleen, wondering just how much Pam knew about her.

Pam shrugged. "News travels fast in here."

"I don't know why I can't," continued Harleen miserably. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm supposed to be sane, but I've never felt more insane. I think I'm losing my mind."

"No, you're not losing your mind. Trust me, I would know, no one knows you better than me," said Pam as she helped Harleen onto her cot. "Now tell me what's going on."

Pam listened intently as Harleen told her everything that had happened to her since she had woken up in the Joker's apartment with no memories of him whatsoever.

"So let me get this straight. You're not sure if you should choose Guy or the Joker. Sounds like a cheesy romance novel, but with more insanity."

"That's not it at all! Why would I ever go back to the Joker? It would be like recovering from a disease only to go licking hospital floors to get sick again. Why would I choose madness? Why would anyone?"

"All right Harleen, listen to me. I know I'm no expert on relationships, so I'm going to advise you based on what I know about your relationship with him and my opinion on it. I don't care if you take my advice or not, because like I said, I'm not a love guru. This is my opinion on the subject and I am only going to say this once and I will never say it again, so pay attention," she sighed and made a face, as though the words that were about to come out of her mouth tasted horrible. "I think you're supposed to be with the Joker. I think that the reason you feel wrong about marrying Guy is because you're not meant to be with him. I think that you and the clown belong together."

"How could you say that? He's a crazy murderer, and you think I should spend the rest of my life with him?" said Harleen incredulously.

"No, I never said that. I think you should stay as far away from the Clown Prince of Crime as possible. What I am saying is that you and the Joker were made for each other, you're practically soulmates," said Pam with a look of disgust on her face.

"Now you're contradicting yourself. You say that we're meant to be, but you're also saying that we shouldn't be together. You're not making any sense," said Harleen, unsure if Pam was the right person to go to for dating advice.

"What I'm trying to say is you and the Joker don't need each other. Your relationship was weird and unhealthy and I'd rather you didn't go back to him, ever. You two could go your separate ways and be just fine. But neither of you will ever find love in anyone else. You two were made for each other, whether I like it or not. You don't love Guy because he's not for you, and the Joker could search the ends of the earth for a replacement henchwench and never find one that does it for him like you did."

"The Joker never loved me," Harleen reminded her.

"He didn't kill you, even when you reverted back to your old self. Not only that, but he didn't kidnap you and force you to be his hench-girl against your will. I think that's about the only way he can truly express any feelings for anyone. Not killing you or forcing you to become his slave again is the closest he'll ever come to saying "I love you." You were special to him, whether he admits it or not."

"But I can't go back to the way I was before, I can't allow him to drive me crazy again," said Harleen as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Listen Harley, what I'm about to say will sound kinda like your ex's twisted logic, so if I start sounding too much like him, please slap some sense into me. Don't go by the doctor's definition of madness. To them and everyone else in the world, anyone that is different or can't be understood is labeled as insane. Batman goes around breaking the rules to protect people and no one ever locks him up, yet when I break the rules to protect what I love they call me crazy and lock me away in a padded cell. Same with you. I don't think you were ever insane, you were just willing to become whatever the Joker wanted or needed you to be. You were willing to do whatever you had to to be with the one you loved. You and me, we're not crazy, we're just willing to do whatever we have to for what we care about. We fight for what we love, and they punish us for it."

"So, what do you think I should do? I'm so lost and confused," asked Harleen. Pam wasn't being very clear.

"If you decide to forget the Joker, don't do it because you're trying to hang onto your sanity, because their version of sanity, the one everyone clings to so desperately, is stupid. If you do decide to go back to the clown, don't do it because you think you need him or because you think he needs you, go to him because you want him. Either way, after today I'm going to deny this conversation ever happened. I never told you I think you and the Joker are meant to be, and I never encouraged you to be with him. I'm only doing this for today because I can see that you need me to. Someone's got to look out for you, and well, you've always been like a little sister to me." said Pam wistfully.

"I need some time to take this all in, and to think about what you said. Thanks for your help, Pam. I wish I could remember you, I really do," said Harleen sadly as she embraced her.

Harleen left Pam's cell and went back to her office. She sat down at her desk and pulled off Guy's ring. It caught the fading sunlight and sparkled dazzlingly as she set it on her desk and put her head in her hands. Why had this happened to her? Why couldn't her life be normal? She felt horrible for hurting Guy this way, but she just couldn't become his wife.

She couldn't believe she was actually considering going back to the Joker. Even if what Pam had said about insanity was true, she couldn't just throw her life away. She had worked so hard to be where she was now, and she was thinking about giving it up like it was worthless.

She had resolved to never go down that path again, to never again let herself succumb to madness. She appreciated what Pam had said, and she may have been partially right, but she knew that Harley hadn't exactly been right in the head. While she hadn't been completely insane, Harley's mind just hadn't been healthy.

She had fallen for him once, and she believed she was falling for him again, and she wondered why. She knew what he was, or she thought she had, once. No one could ever truly understand the Joker, not even himself. Yes, he was insane. Yes, he was a killer. He was many things, but was he capable of caring for someone? And was she capable of feelings for him? She had done it before, but she was different now. Was she falling for him again, or was she just losing her mind again? Perhaps both.

She could never forget how he had set her free when doing so went against everything in him. He wouldn't do that for just anyone, she knew. Did she really mean something to him, and if so, how special was she to him? Was it possible that he cared for her, maybe even loved her? Most certainly not, but he did feel something for her, something similar to love that was foreign to most people, even him.

He had been a man once, that she was sure of. Killers aren't born, they're made. Something terrible had happened to him, and not even he knew what that thing was anymore. He had become a monster, but could it be possible that part of the man he had once been was still inside him somewhere? He had severed all ties with the world, until she had come along. Was it possible that, despite what he had become, that tiny shred of humanity within him longed for companionship? That the beast had been forced to let her go because the man within him was lonely and loved her and didn't want to live without her? The Joker was more monster than man, and though the monster was far more powerful than the man, perhaps the man was stronger than anyone thought possible. The man was not nearly strong enough to ever truly triumph over the beast, but perhaps it was just strong enough to keep him from forgetting himself entirely. If the man did exist, the Joker probably didn't have any knowledge of it. He could feel its effects but could not understand the thing itself. The monster wanted her dead more than anything else, but the man inside him would continue to fight until it could fight no more, it would fight for her.

Perhaps that was why the bodies kept piling up, because he was killing them instead of her. Perhaps it was some sort of compromise between the man and the monster, killing others so she could live and be free of insanity. It was touching, in a creepy and twisted way, but still touching.

She compared her life now to the one she had seen on tape. She compared herself to Harley Quinn. Harley had been so happy, like a butterfly, a deadly butterfly. Was she happy? She honestly wasn't sure. Her life was wonderful; before today, she had had a good job, a great boyfriend, and a few close friends, yet she felt so empty.

Maybe she wasn't meant to be Harleen Quinzel, but Harley Quinn. He was a monster, she knew this better than anyone, and though she despised the monster, she discovered that she loved the man within the monster. She knew, as Harley had probably known, that even though the monster was hideous, the man was beautiful. Harley had loved the Joker when no one else did because she saw parts of him that no one else could see, parts that he didn't even know existed. She saw the man inside and chose to love him and the beast. She had given everything up for him and had become like him to be with him. Harleen realized that she wanted to love the man and the beast, that she no longer cared about her sanity or anything else. He was all that mattered.

Harleen knew that if she chose to become Harley Quinn again, it was all or nothing. She knew that if she decided to do this, things wouldn't be the same unless she took the antidote, and it would either kill her or make her insane again. The prospect of either outcome was frightening, but she was surprised to find that she didn't care. It was bittersweet; she would lose everything but gain the only thing that really mattered. Maybe she was making a mistake, but she wanted to do it. It was crazy, but she wanted her old life back. She wanted him back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Two weeks later**

Harleen sat at the little table in the kitchen of her parent's house as she drank her morning coffee, watching the sun rise. It had been so long since she had been home, and just being there comforted her, it helped her to forget all the turmoil in her life.

Even though she wanted to be with the Joker again, she had decided it would be best not to rush into things. She needed time to think, to make sure she wasn't acting impulsively. She wanted to wait until she was absolutely positive that going back to him wouldn't be a mistake. She wanted to do things right this time.

Her parents had died a few years ago, and they had left their house to her. After they died, she could have moved back in instead of living in an apartment, but being there reminded her of them, and the memories were too painful. But things had changed, and she now welcomed those memories. It was nice to just sit back and remember a simpler time, when she hadn't had a care in the world, when the only monsters she had had to worry about were the ones under her bed.

She had decided to take some time off from work. She needed the money, but she needed time to think even more. She had decided to lay low for a while, and so far her wishes had been respected by her colleagues and friends. Guy called several times a day, begging to know what was wrong and why she had left him at the altar. She ignored his messages and hated herself for doing this to him. She wanted to explain the situation to him and ask for his forgiveness, but how could she do that? How could she explain to her ex-fiancée that she loved her psycho ex-boyfriend more than him?

She still couldn't believe she was seriously considering going back to the Joker. It felt wrong and right at the same time. Most of her wanted him back, but part of her still nagged at her, making her feel very conflicted. She wanted him, but part of her (her common sense and her conscience) didn't want to give up everything she had worked so hard for, and didn't want to go back to criminality. If only she could have both him and this life, but she knew that was an impossibility. It was all or none, she could have him or her life and sanity, and though most of her didn't much care about the latter, that small part of her wouldn't allow her to give up everything for him, not without a fight.

She felt like a great battle was going on inside of her, and she wasn't completely sure which side she was on. Only she would decide which side won, but she wasn't entirely sure which side should win.

She jumped when she heard the doorbell ring. She got out of her chair and answered the door to find it was her old body-guards.

"Has something happened?" she asked immediately, knowing they wouldn't be here unless something was wrong.

"There's been an incident. We've been instructed to take you to a safe location until further notice," said one of them without emotion.

"What's wrong?" asked Harleen nervously.

"No time. We'll explain on the road," said the other impatiently.

Normally Harleen would have refused, but these were her old body-guards after all. It was their job to keep people safe.

"Is it the Joker?" asked Harleen as she grabbed her jacket.

"You could say that."

xxxxx

The Joker laid on his cot, the murderous abyss that was his mind visualizing every possible way to kill Guy Kopski. The man was going to die, but great care had to be taken in the way it was done. After all, not only had the man stolen from him, but apparently he thought he could do it and get away with it scot-free. If he had any brains at all he would have known that Harleen was off-limits, sane or insane. Instead of stealing her, he could have saved himself some time and checked himself into the morgue.

He was extremely bored, and he wished he had something to play with, something to do with his hands, but the doctors had learned the hard way that he could take any seemingly harmless object and transform it into a deadly weapon. He had done it with so many things, like pencils, Play-doh, Harleen Quinzel… no, he didn't want to think about her. To distract himself from the appalling thought of Harley in a wedding dress, he began visualizing the deaths of everyone in the asylum, starting with the guards who had so rudely scrubbed off his makeup and had ignored his jokes. Next on the list was his new doctor: a no-nonsense guy with absolutely no sense of humor, whose wife the Joker just happened to have killed in a bank robbery a few months back. He would enjoy destroying whatever sanity the man possessed and then, ending him.

His dark thoughts soothed him somewhat, but he still felt that annoying knot in his chest. Why couldn't he just forget her already? Why was it that on those rare occasions when he could sleep he dreamed of her? Why was it that his hideout seemed so lonely? He hated her for doing this to him, hated her with every bone in his body, yet he wanted her back so badly. This was why he had wanted to kill her. If she was dead, she wouldn't be alive to remind him of her. He could forget her if she was dead, but as long as she lived he couldn't stop thinking about her. Why he had let her go before was still a complete mystery to him, but he certainly was not about to let it happen a second time. The moment he had heard that Harleen was going to become Mrs. Guy Kopski, he had decided that when he killed Guy he would kill her with him. If she loved him so much, she could die with him. Of course, he had also heard that she had gotten cold feet at the last minute and called off the wedding, but it didn't matter. Killing people in her place just wasn't good enough anymore. He was tired of letting her live, he needed her to be dead and out of his life for good. Never again would he allow her to do this to him, never again would he allow her to hurt him this way.

He heard his cell door open and watched as his doctor walked in to begin their session. Even though Harleen had taken some time off, they still wouldn't let him out of his cell. It was like solitary confinement, except he still had to have therapy sessions.

"What's up Doc?" asked Joker with a friendly smile. "Is it therapy time already, Ted?"

"Joker, I thought we agreed that you would refer to me as Dr. Hillenburg," replied the doctor.

"Isn't Hillenburg the name of the guy who created that show about the sea sponge? I love that show!" said Joker as he sat up.

"Why don't we get started, shall we?" said the doctor as though the Joker hadn't spoken. "Where were we when we finished last time?"

"I was just about to tell you how I got my scars before we had to quit. Are you still interested?" said the Joker as he traced his scars with his finger.

"Yes, I believe it would be good for you to talk about that. Undoubtedly it must be a painful memory," said Ted as he started the tape recorder.

"I suppose," said Joker with a shrug. "When I was little, I lived with my aunt and uncle in their beach house, outside of Gotham. My father died before I was born and my mother died shortly after, so they were all I had."

"Did you like living with them?" asked the doctor as he wrote some notes in his little notebook.

"For the most part. My uncle had a sailboat and he would sometimes take me fishing, if I finished my homework and chores, of course. I always did love to go sailing," said Joker wistfully.

"I take it you had a good relationship with your uncle. What about your aunt?"

"That was another story. She had multiple-personality disorder; most of the time she loved me and treated me well, but her other half couldn't stand me. Her other personality, he called himself Billy by the way, never surfaced around my uncle, only me. He would always threaten me, but for the most part he wouldn't touch me because he wanted to stay a secret from my uncle. When he would go away my aunt would come back and have no idea of what had happened while she was off in her own little world.

"One night, my uncle dies of a heart attack. As soon as my aunt realizes what's happened, Billy takes over and decides that it's the perfect opportunity to get rid of me. He drags me out to the docks and sticks fish-hooks in my mouth, and leaves me hanging from the docks to die. It's low-tide, but in a few hours the water will rise and drown me. Fortunately, some fishermen see me and rescue me. My aunt gets locked up and I'm taken to the wonderful world of Gotham city. You know what the saddest part of the story is? No it's not the scars, it's the fact that I never got to go sailing again."

The doctor had stopped scribbling and just stared at him. He caught himself and quickly began scribbling notes once more.

"Do you believe the incident influenced you to become a criminal?" he asked, sounding just the tiniest bit flustered.

"Who knows? Maybe the fact that I am what I am today had nothing to do with my crazy aunt. Maybe it did. You never know." The Joker paused, then said, "So how's my ex doing? I heard she's on vacation."

"I don't think we should talk about her," the doctor said quietly.

"You're right, she's boring. Why don't we talk about your wife instead. Didn't I kill her some time ago in a bank robbery or something?" asked Joker, in a tone that one would use for discussing the weather.

"Yes. Yes you did," said Dr. Hillenburg testily, fighting to keep his composure.

"And they gave me to you anyway? Wow, the nerve of some people…"

"I requested you," said the doctor bitterly as he turned off the tape recorder. "I wanted to understand your mind, I wanted to know how exactly someone could take the life of such a wonderful woman."

"Well I'll tell you, Doc. I did it with some gasoline and a lit match," said Joker with a laugh.

Dr. Hillenburg glared at him darkly. "I think we have spoken enough for today."

The doctor stalked out of his cell, leaving Joker to laugh quietly on his cot. He stopped when he heard the guard at his door talking to someone. Curious, he listened to their conversation.

"Did you hear what happened to Dr. Quinzel?" his guard said. What was his name? Oh right, Riley.

"I heard she was takin' some time off. Why? Somethin' happen?" said the second voice, who Joker guessed was another guard.

"I heard she went missin'. No one has any idea where she is."

"Probably went crazy again or somethin'. That kind of thing tends to happen a lot here."

"Maybe. I heard someone said they saw her being taken into that bank that the Joker practically destroyed a while back."

"You should know boys, that when attempting to trick the Joker, you should at least put some effort into it," interrupted the Joker.

"What are you talkin' about, ya loon?" barked Riley.

"I don't like it when people try to make a fool of me, Riley, especially when they think they can do it with only a half-hearted attempt. I don't like that at all."

"We don't know what you're talking about," the other guard said with a hint of unease in his tone.

"Come now boys, remember who you're talking to. Let me guess, Dr. Hillenburg wants to get back at me for something I supposedly did. Can you believe he's blaming me for something I had no control over? I mean come on, it's not my fault his wife wasn't able to get out of the bank in time, she should have run faster. Anyway, he hired you two geniuses to trick me into escaping and coming after him, am I right?"

"Please don't hurt us," said Riley, fear evident in his voice. It always amused Joker how much power he had over people, even when he was unarmed and in a padded cell.

"Oh Riley, I wouldn't dream of it. That is, if you'll let me out of my cell for a little while. The good doctor really needs to learn a thing or two before he goes up against rogues, but I suppose I should go fetch Harleen."

"You'll let us live if we help you escape?" asked the other guard, his voice shaking.

"Of course. I'll forget this whole incident ever happened if you'll agree to be my secret henchmen. You two can handle that, right?"

"S-Sure," said Riley uneasily.

"Good. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" chuckled the Joker.

Riley let Joker out of his cell and escorted him to the exit. Because the Joker was with a guard, no one payed them any attention.

Once they were outside, Joker hid in a bush while Riley went to get his suit and makeup. Once he had retrieved them, he brought them back to the Joker, who wasted no time in changing.

"Would you mind giving me your cell phone number? Now that we're pals I'd like to keep in touch," said Joker as he finished dressing.

"N-No problem," said Riley nervously. "You got something to write it down on?"

"I don't need to write it down, I assure you I'll never forget it," said Joker with a grin.

Tentatively, Riley gave him his number.

"Thank you very much, Riley. It's been a pleasure working with you."

As Riley practically sprinted back inside, the Joker took his time finding the perfect getaway car. Once he had found one that he liked he hot-wired it and was on his way.

He couldn't believe Ted's idiocy. He would have to teach him a thing or two before he killed him. And Harleen… well, whether the doc had her or not he figured tonight was as good a night as any to finally get rid of her. How could one woman cause so many problems? It was like the universe had put some kind of curse on her to cause nothing but trouble for the rest of the world, especially him. The thought of squeezing the life out of her and watching the light fade from her eyes put him in a good mood. As he drove to the remains of the bank, he whistled merrily to his own made-up tune.


	14. Chapter 14

The Joker parked outside the bank and walked inside, wondering what exactly Ted had in store for him. The bank was still standing, but the fire had nearly destroyed it. The only light in the entire building was the moonlight showing through huge glass windows.

It didn't take him very long to find Harleen. She appeared to be unconscious, strapped to a chair and gagged. Her eyes fluttered open as he entered, and he enjoyed watching them fill with fear as she tried and failed to free herself. He resisted the urge to laugh at her as she turned her eyes on him, silently begging him for help, or mercy.

"Welcome Joker. I was afraid those two buffoons wouldn't get the message along," said a voice from the shadows. Dr. Hillenburg walked into the light and Joker smiled his most brilliant smile at him.

"Doc, you threw me a party! And you even invited my ex, how thoughtful of you. Personally I would have blown up some balloons or hired a stripper, but this is good too."

"Shut up, clown. Tonight is my night, and I will make you pay for what you did to my wife," said Ted darkly.

"Sounds like my kind of party. What have you got in mind, may I ask? Are you going to beat me to a pulp? Or maybe you're going to skip the beating and just shoot me. I'm fine with either one, but a little originality would be nice."

The doctor smiled grimly. "I'm going to kill the only thing that ever mattered to you. Now, I know she doesn't mean much to you anymore, but I know without a doubt that she does have some meaning to you. Before you try to do anything, you should know that I have planted a bomb in here. If you try to save her or if you try to escape I will blow us all up. I'm going to kill her and then you, her death will be the last thing you ever see," said Ted as he produced a revolver and pointed it at Harleen's head, causing her to whimper.

"I hope you enjoy it," said Joker indifferently as he stared into the man's eyes. "I was going to kill her anyway, at least this way I won't have to clean up the mess."

The man grew angry at Joker's words. "You cannot honestly say that you don't care if she lives or dies."

"You got me. Truth is, I really want her dead." While the Joker wanted to do it himself, as long as she died he would be a happy man.

"What about your own life? Do you not care that you are about to draw your last breath?"

Joker shrugged. "Hey, as long as I got me a replacement I'm good to go."

"Replacement? What replacement?" said the doctor as he pointed the gun at him.

"You, silly," said Joker with a wide grin. "This plan of yours is sadly predictable, uncreative and half-baked, but hey, we all gotta start somewhere. Though you'll never be the villain I was, I think given the opportunity, you would make an excellent villain."

"What are you talking about? You think that killing the two of you makes me a villain? Well you are mistaken!" Ted roared.

"Am I? I know how the human mind works, I know how easily it can be broken, and I think you have the makings of a great criminal. Think about it. You're trying to avenge your little wife by killing an innocent woman and her not-so-innocent ex. Harleen has done you know harm, yet you plan to kill her anyway because you think it's what your dead wife would have wanted. You remind me so much of Mr. Freeze. His whole purpose in life is to find a cure for his wife, but if he were to save her now, do you think she would like what he has become? I'm not just talking about the fact that he's a popsicle now, mind you. Sure he did it to save her, but do you think she would have wanted him to become a super villain just for her? You think that we are the only people you'll ever kill, but you're wrong. Once you taste bloodshed and madness you'll never go back, you won't want to."

"You're wrong. I am stronger than you, I will not allow myself to be driven insane like you," said Ted through gritted teeth, his face red with fury. He aimed the gun back at Harleen, who continued to gaze at Joker helplessly.

"I'd say you're already there, but you can believe whatever you want. Go ahead, kill Harleen, but try not to mess her up to much. She has such a pretty face, and I'd hate to see it ruined by an amateur." The Joker looked away from Ted and stared into Harleen's eyes. He wasn't sure if the doctor could actually do it, but he didn't want to miss it in case it did happen.

As he looked into her desperate, terror-filled eyes, that annoying feeling seemed to explode in his chest. It had never been this bad before, and he felt like he could barely breathe. He felt a powerful, irrational urge to run to her and save her, or at least to be with her when she died. He couldn't wait to see Ted blow her brains out, but at the same time he wanted to hold her in his arms and protect her from harm. It was maddening.

Harleen stared back at him, pleading silently for him to save her. She only looked at him for a moment though, then turned away and closed her eyes, giving up and waiting for the bullet that would end her life. She knew that he wouldn't save her, and she didn't care anymore anyway.

As Ted cocked the gun, Joker suddenly lost all control over himself. He lunged for the doctor and snatched the gun out of his hands and aimed it at his forehead before Ted even had time to think about running or blowing up the building. The Joker doubted there even was a bomb.

Despite being afraid, Ted smiled triumphantly. "I knew it. I knew you cared for her. Then you know what it is like to have the one you love taken from you. Though your feelings for her are nothing compared to what I felt for my wife, at least you know the pain you have forced me to endure."

"You know what this whole situation reminds me of Ted?" asked Joker, his eyes boring into the doctor's. "The time my daddy took me to the circus."

"You said your father died before you were born," said the doctor, his expression changing to one of bewilderment.

"I'll let you be the judge of what's real and what's fake, Doc," said the Joker as he pulled the trigger.

As Ted's body went limp, the Joker went over to Harleen to untie her. As if on cue, the instant he freed her, Batman appeared out of nowhere.

Batman immediately knocked the gun out of Joker's grasp with a batarang. The Joker retaliated by picking up the chair Harleen had been strapped to and threw it at him. Batman barely dodged it and ran over to him and grabbed him and shoved him roughly against the wall. The sensation made Joker laugh, giddy with his own pain.

"I thought I told you to leave her alone," growled Batman.

"You did, but I ignored you. You're not mad at me are you?" giggled the Joker.

"You will never hurt her again. You're going straight back to your padded cell at Arkham."

"You know, I once heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. If that's the case, then who's crazier, me or you?"

The Joker laughed again as he tightened his grip on him. "Run Harleen, get out now," ordered Batman.

Harleen was watching them fight, her eyes wide. She didn't move, she seemed to be in shock.

"Don't go, stay here with us Harleen," giggled Joker. "After all, why should we have all the fun? Didn't your mother ever teach you to share, Batsy?"

"Don't talk to her," warned Batman.

"Why do you care about her so much Bats? You never did answer my question before. Do you feel something for my hench-girl? Does she have a special place in your heart?" the Joker asked him in a deadly whisper. "Is that why you don't want me to kill her, because it would hurt you too much?"

"No, I feel nothing for Harleen other than a duty to keep her safe from monsters like you," snarled Batman. "It's my job to protect her and all of Gotham from you and your kind. You have no right to keep tormenting her this way, if you really cared about her you would stop trying to kill her and stay as far away from her as possible."

"That may be true for you Batso, but in my book, when you see something you want, you take it and run and never look back. You should do the same, Catwoman would probably find it sexy. Or do you prefer Talia al Ghul? My, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend, how could you possibly choose just one of them?" chuckled Joker. "If something ever happened to one of them you'd have the other to fall back on, but all I've ever had is Harley. Can you really blame me for becoming so attached to my little harlequin?"

Without loosening his grip on him, Batman dragged Joker outside to the Batmobile. Just as he was about to shove him inside, a gunshot sounded and Batman collapsed to the ground. Joker looked and was shocked to see Harleen holding the gun, her expression unreadable. She stared at Batman for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether or not she should shoot him again. She then dropped the revolver and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her middle as though she were trying to hold herself together.

The Joker crossed over to her and got down on his knees and just watched her, unable to comprehend what was going on with her. Why would she shoot Batman and not him? After all, Batman had tried to save her from him, why would she try to kill him and not the guy who wanted her dead? Whatever the reason for her weird behavior, at least now he could set things right. As he reached for the gun, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You were right. You were right about everything."

Without any warning, she threw herself on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and sobbing on his shoulder. He gently stroked her hair, unsure of why he was doing it other than that it seemed the thing to do. At that moment he didn't know what he wanted anymore and, quite surprisingly, his confusion didn't bother him. He could have killed her then, but the thought didn't even enter his mind. As he held her and comforted her, he felt a kind of warmth that he wasn't familiar with, a peace that was foreign to him. Feelings that, even though he could not understand them, he liked nonetheless. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way before, except for maybe when Harleen had chosen to be with him, in a time that felt like a forgotten dream.

After she had cried herself out, Harleen pulled back and faced him. Her makeup was running down her face in a horrible mess, but it didn't make her any less beautiful to him. "I think I ruined your suit."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've ruined one of my suits, though I'm pretty sure you've never done it with tears before," he said, not caring at all at that moment about the state of his clothes.

"Did you mean what you said back there?" she asked as she gazed deeply into his eyes.

"You never can tell," he said with a wink.

"Would you be willing to have a crazy ex-doctor as your sidekick?" she asked with a small smile.

"Are you kidding me, Harleen? That's my favorite kind of sidekick!" he said as he tickled her stomach.

"Uh-uh, no more of this Harleen stuff," she giggled. "Harley Quinn's back, baby!"


	15. Chapter 15

To celebrate the occasion, they took the batmobile and drove it around town for a bit, leaving the Dork Knight to lie in a puddle of his own blood. The Joker had always wanted to take the Caped Coconut's beloved car for a spin, and Harley's re-rebirth gave him the perfect excuse to do so, not that he needed an excuse.

After they had driven around for a while, running over cars and anything that was in their way (or wasn't) and earning shouts of outrage and screams of fear from pedestrians, Joker drove them back to the asylum.

"What are we doing here?" asked Harley, afraid of getting caught.

"Just need to pick up a few things. Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?"

Using her cell, Joker called Riley and had him bring out a few things. When Riley came outside, his eyes widened at the sight of the Joker in the driver's seat of the batmobile but said nothing. He handed him the stuff he had requested and ran back inside as fast as he could.

Harley saw that what Riley had brought out was her old harlequin costume and makeup. She felt her excitement build as he handed the costume to her.

"I have a bit of a confession to make," said Joker, attempting to look sheepish. "I hope you don't mind, but after I found out that you were under the influence of fear toxin and not a head injury, and that there wasn't a cure, I burned pretty much all of your stuff. This is the only harlequin costume left, so try not to get it destroyed until we have more made."

To keep the Bat from finding their hideout, Joker and Harley reluctantly left the batmobile and found another car, but not before they rewired or destroyed everything in the batmobile to give Batsy a world-class migraine. After they finished torturing the batmobile to death, they hotwired the nicest car they could find and drove off.

It didn't take them long to reach his current hideout: an abandoned toy factory. The Joker took her hand in his and led her to his room. Once inside, she eagerly put on her costume, and when she looked at herself in the mirror she couldn't believe her eyes. She was no longer Harleen Quinzel, not on the outside, anyway. On the outside she was Harley Quinn once again, but on the inside, she still felt too much like Harleen Quinzel for her liking.

"You never looked better," said the Joker admiringly as he put his arm around her waist.

"It's not enough. I'm Harley on the outside, but not on the inside, not entirely. I don't think things can ever be the same between us, unless I take the antidote," said Harley as she continued to stare at her reflection.

"I don't think you really _need_ the antidote. It may take a little time, but pretty soon it will be as if you were never sane," said the Joker as he gazed at her reflection in the mirror. "You're already beating the toxin, otherwise you wouldn't be here now, you'd still be boring ole' Harleen Quinzel. Apparently, Crane's concotion isn't as powerful as we thought. Besides, you didn't need an antidote to become Harley Quinn before, you can do it again."

"I know that, but I want my memories back. I feel like there's a hole in my heart where my memories were stolen. I want to remember you and Ivy and everything," said Harley as she turned to look at him with longing eyes.

"It could kill you, you know," said the Joker as he strode toward a desk beside the bed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small vial filled with a clear liquid. He took out a needle and drew out some of the antidote. "Are you sure you're willing to take that risk?"

He handed her the needle and she reached out and took it in her hand. She held it at eye level and murmured, "Wow, I'm holding liquid insanity in my hand." It sounded so weird to say it out loud, but it was the truth. She swallowed her fears and gathered all her strength as she turned to him. "I'm willing to take the risk for you, but I need you to do something for me first."

"And what would that be, exactly?" he asked, somewhat impressed by her show of bravery.

"All the doctors at Arkham say you never really loved me, that you were incapable of love. Everyone believes you could never love another soul. I love you now, but I want to love you as I did before, that's why I'm choosing to take the antidote, or the main reason anyway. If I'm going to throw my life away for you again, I need to know that you appreciate what I'm sacrificing for you." She took his hand in hers and gazed deeply into his fathomless brown eyes. "I need to know that you do love me, no matter what they say. I know it's not in your nature to love, so I will ask this of you only once. Tell me you love me, and I'll be yours forever."

He was tempted to shove her away and yell at her for asking him to do such a thing. He was tempted to just cure her and ignore her absurd request. The Joker loved no one, not even her. But he couldn't turn her down, not when he was so close to finally having her back. They were just words, surely he could stand to say them once, just once. After all, if she took the antidote she would probably die anyway. He could do this, for her.

"I love you, Harley," whispered the Joker, a bit surprised that he had actually said it. While he hated saying those words, he supposed they weren't as bad as he thought.

Harley smiled a tiny, genuine smile at him. "That's all I needed to hear," she said as she pressed her lips against his, her smile growing wider as she did. She had kissed Guy many times, but it had never felt like this with him. Kissing the Joker made her feel more alive than she had felt in a very long time. She let go of all her fear and hesitation; this was what she meant to be. She belonged to the Clown Prince of Crime, and he belonged to her.

As he kissed her back, she stuck the needle into her neck. A minute or two after she had injected herself with the cure, she passed out cold.

"Harley, Harley, Harley Quinn, what am I going to do with you?" said Joker as he caught her limp body in his arms.

The Joker carried her to his bed and laid her down on the blanket. He then laid down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close to him. Her head rested on his chest as he pressed his face into her sweet-smelling hair. She was so warm; he had forgotten what it was like to not feel cold. With her in his arms, he was able to forget the world and even Batman, it was as if they were the only two people in the entire world. Her breathing and heartbeat were like a lullaby to him; he held onto her tightly, unwilling to ever let her go and wishing this moment could last forever. She could very well be dead by morning, and although that fact didn't bother him, he was glad she was alive and there with him. While he usually preferred solitude, it was nice every once in a while to not be alone.

He just couldn't understand her. How could such a beautiful creature love such a hideous monster? He was a disfigured outcast, an insane crime god. She knew what he was, so what was it about him that she couldn't get enough of? Most people ran in fear from him (and he wouldn't have it any other way) while she ran _to_ him, even when things were at their worst. He had never expected her to come back to him, and he had accepted that, for the most part. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. She was his again, and nothing could ever change that, not even death. No one could ever steal her from him again. She was his once more, and that was all he cared about for the moment. Maybe that was why he hadn't killed her before, because part of him had always hoped that she would come back someday. Maybe, just maybe.


	16. Chapter 16

When the Joker awoke the next morning, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he had slept through the entire night, a feat he usually could only manage while under powerful tranquilizers, and even then he had nightmares. But that night he hadn't dreamt at all; he had slept soundly, or about as soundly as was possible for him.

He was also surprised to realize that for once he actually had an appetite. He went into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and turned on the news. The headlines were buzzing about some girl named Harleen Quinzel who had apparently been kidnapped the day before. They all feared the worst, that she was dead. And they were right: she was dead, he had killed her. Harleen was gone forever.

After the Harleen story ended, he heard a very amusing story about how Bruce Wayne had accidentally been shot and had been rushed to surgery. According to the doctors, he would be just fine in no time. The Joker figured the orphan playboy would most likely milk the attention this would bring him for all it was worth to boost his already god-like image, and would likely sue whoever had done it, as though he didn't have enough money already.

He also heard an interesting story about how Scarecrow had escaped from Arkham the night before. Good, it would make hunting him down much easier. The Joker took out his cell phone and made a few calls to some of his "friends" in the underworld, and within minutes knew exactly where he was hiding. Crane's life was about to become a living hell, his and Guy's both. Even though he wouldn't have the pleasure of killing Crane, he had never promised not to kill Guy.

Bud and Lou trotted over to him and rested their heads at his feet, whining to be fed or at least to be petted. He wondered why he had kept the mutts around after Harley had left him. He liked them well enough and they were good pets, but it was Harley who really cared about them. Without their mama, they rarely left him alone as they had been starving for attention. Not only were they starving for attention, but without Harley they didn't get fed very often. He wondered if starved for long enough if they would attack their beloved master, or if they would just annoy him to death with their incessant howling. After much deliberation, he decided it would be best to just get the vultures some food.

After he filled their food bowls, he sat back down on the couch with his breakfast until he heard a door open and close.

"Mornin' Puddin'" said Harley sleepily as she sat down next to him.

At the sound of her voice with the New York accent, he threw his bowl of cereal onto the floor and eagerly grabbed her and pulled her to him, eliminating the space between them. Unable to hold back any longer, he pressed his lips against hers fiercely, savoring the feel of her body crushed against his. How good it felt to have his little clown princess in his arms once again, where no one could have her but him. No one would ever steal her from him again, he would make sure of that.

At first Harley was stunned that he was kissing her this way, but she recovered quickly and eagerly kissed him back, feeling like a child who had been allowed to open her Christmas presents early. She passionately kissed his lips and scars, luxuriating in the moment as though it was their last. With the life they lived, they could be killed at any time, so she treasured every single moment with her angel more than anything else in the world. She always loved it when he took time out of his day to spend with her, as it didn't happen very often.

"What's the occasion, Puddin'?" she whispered as he kissed and bit at her neck.

"Quiet, I'm enjoying myself," he mumbled as he moved back up to her mouth, kissing her lips hungrily and making her giggle.

Just as the Joker began to rip off her costume, having heard the sound of their mama's voice, Bud and Lou jumped up on the couch and licked her face lovingly, killing the moment in the process. The Joker had to force himself to not turn them into coats as Harley petted them affectionately.

"Wow, the way the babies are actin' you'd think they'd been starved of attention," said Harley as she hugged them.

She turned back to the Joker, who pulled down the front of her costume to reveal the_ J _scar he had carved so long ago. "I think we need to reopen this."

"Any particular reason?" asked Harley as he pulled out one of his many knives. It wasn't that she objected, in fact she loved it when they reopened her_ J_ scar. Sometimes when they were separated for extended periods of time she would touch it and feel close to him, as though he were right there with her.

Though she would never say it out loud, she knew that whenever he reopened that particular scar it meant that he was dealing with emotions that he couldn't understand. She knew he wasn't capable of much feeling, but every once in a while something would trigger something within him that he couldn't endure, so he would cut her open again to take his mind off whatever was tormenting him and to release the emotions that were plaguing him. He would have a bad day and need reminding that she was his, or he would be in an unusually affectionate mood and just want to remind _her_ that she was his. Everyone thought her Puddin' was a monster, but she knew the truth. He had a heart just like everyone else, but because he was different from them they all thought he was evil, but she knew he wasn't.

She knew he didn't mean her any real harm when he cut her scar open, it was just his unique way of reminding them both that no matter what happened she belonged to him and him alone. She loved that she was the one who made him laugh again when he was down, that she was the one who supported him on those rare occasions when he needed someone to hold onto.

"No reason," he said quietly as he began to cut open her scar. She moaned in pain as he carved into her delicate flesh and felt blood seep out as he did so. She lovingly admired his body as he worked. Every inch of him was so beautiful, even his scars, and even though she told him often, he wouldn't believe her. If only he could see himself through _her_ eyes.

"So what's on the agenda for today, Puddin'?" asked Harley as she felt the wonderful sting of the knife tear into her skin. Maybe this was a sign he would take the entire day off to spend with her. Doubtful, but possible. But even if that wasn't the plan, as long as she was with him she couldn't care less what they did.

"I was thinking we'd go pay our dear friend Scarecrow a visit. Why don't we bring Guy along for the ride? The more the merrier, I always say," said the Joker as he finished his work with satisfaction. Everything was the way it was supposed to be, her bleeding scar was proof of that.

"But Mistah J, we visited him just last night. And who's Guy?" asked Harley as she pressed her hand against her reopened wound to try to staunch the flow of blood.

"What do you mean, Harley?" asked the Joker, perplexed that she would ask such a question.

"You know, I had the strangest dream last night, and there was a guy named Guy in it," said Harley thoughtfully. "I dreamt that I forgot who you were and left you. Oh Mistah J, it was the most horrible nightmare I've ever had. Words can't even describe how awful it was. I left you for another man named Guy, and I told you I didn't love you anymore and to get out of my life," she whispered, unable to believe she was capable of such a thing, even if it was just a nightmare. "And when I woke up and ya weren't there in bed with me, I was afraid that it wasn't a dream, that it was real," said Harley as she relived the terrible nightmare in her head.

To her astonishment, the Joker began to laugh. It began as a small giggle, then grew into raucous laughter. He wrapped his arms around himself as his body convulsed with laughter and tears brimmed at his eyes.

"What's so funny?" asked Harley, confused and a bit hurt that he would laugh at her. It wasn't the first time he had laughed at her expense and normally it didn't bother her, but this was different. He laughed quite often of course, but this laugh was different; it was the one he used after a punch line had been delivered. But what was the punch line exactly? Apparently it had something to do with her and her hellish nightmare, but she couldn't imagine why. It had been so real and so terrible, and he thought it was _funny, _hilarious even.

Once he had regained control over himself, he wiped the tears out of his eyes and answered, "Oh, it's nothing, Harley-baby. Now don't you start pouting, I'm not laughing _at_ you, not entirely. Let's just say it's an inside joke. Besides, at least it was only a dream, and dreams aren't real, Cupcake."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, it was just a dream. But ya know, it wasn't all bad. Even though I became like all those awful doctors and abandoned you, ya never gave up on me. I did such horrible things, and you should have left me for it, but you never did. You waited for me to come back to my senses and took me back even though I didn't deserve it," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. "You saved me."

"So as I was saying, why don't we go play with Scarecrow and Guy today?" continued the Joker as though he hadn't heard her. "I hope you don't have any plans for the next few days, or weeks, because I have so many fun activities planned for them both, they'll need surgery to remove the smiles from their faces!"

"Sounds good to me," said Harley, blissfully happy just to be in his arms where she belonged. She raised her head and gazed at him with her beautiful baby-blues. "Puddin', can you promise me somethin'?"

He started kissing her again to shut her up, but she was determined. "Please Sweetie, for me?" she pleaded in between kisses.

He relented with a sigh and moved down to her neck once more and grunted to let her know he was listening.

"Mistah J, promise me that we'll always be together. That dream really scared me, it got me to thinking about how lucky I am to have you. I know it was just a nightmare, but it made me realize just how much I need you, and I don't ever want to lose you. Can you please promise me that you'll never leave me, no matter what happens? Even if I were to go loony and do what I did in the dream, will you please promise to stay with me anyway? I love you more than anything else in the world, and I don't ever want to be without you," she asked with tears in her eyes. She needed him to promise her this, even if it was a promise he couldn't always keep. She would rather die than live without him, she couldn't imagine living in a world where he didn't exist.

The Joker stopped kissing her and looked away for a long time, so long that she was sure he wouldn't answer her, so she was surprised when he did. Without looking at her, he held her close as he whispered so quietly that she could barely hear, "Only if _you_ promise to never leave _me_ again."

_I hope you all enjoyed that, and thanks for all the reviews! _


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